


Head-First

by aliciameade



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lifeguards, Co-workers, F/F, First Kiss, First Time, No Lesbians Die, not ever just together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-06-28 09:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19809454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliciameade/pseuds/aliciameade
Summary: They're lifeguards.





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

Beca isn’t the biggest fan of the sun. Or heat. Or sand. Or the outdoors, really, in general.

She muses over her situation while her eyes scan the shoreline and the rolling waves. Her whistle remains perpetually hanging from the corner of her mouth; she has to use it often. Teenage boys (and adult men, Beca thinks with disdain), are too often getting into trouble. They like to amp each other up, dare one another to prove how much of a man they are by doing things like seeing who can swim out the farthest, stay underwater the longest, and, in what is a very real risk, jump off the jetty that extends far into the ocean. It’s made of sharp, uneven rocks and is very clearly marked as off-limits.

Not that that stops the biggest idiots.

The fact that it extends some one hundred feet creates the assumption that the water at the end of it is sufficiently deep enough for diving. In reality, it’s no deeper there than it is ten feet from shore. She can still remember last summer when she had to trade off doing chest compressions on a seventeen-year-old male who dove in and nearly broke his neck with one of her fellow guards right there on the beach while they waited for the emergency vehicle.

He’d survived, and last she heard, he was up and walking again, but had gone through extensive surgeries and physical therapy to accomplish it. He’d later admitted he’d been dared to do it. The intended spoils? A case of Heineken.

It haunts her despite his recovery. The blood. The lifelessness. The blue of his lips. The crack of his sternum beneath her hands. She’d never had to do CPR on a real person before that day. Her training had taught her it wasn’t uncommon to happen, but she would never be able to erase that sound from her memory.

But he’d survived. She’d helped save someone’s life because her best friend talked her into taking the lifeguard test with the Parks and Recreation Department so they could have “sexy summer jobs that will let us meet all the hotties and get killer tans,” as Stacie had put it.

To her legitimate astonishment, she’d passed the test and went through the training program to come out a certified lifeguard. It seemed the clumsiness she’d experienced on land her entire life whenever she attempted some kind of sport didn’t exist in the water. She’d been one of the fastest swimmers in their recruitment class; it made her regret not having discovered the talent earlier. She could have been a star on her high school’s swim team.

However, the concept of participating in organized athletics makes her want to vomit. So, that never would have happened.

Instead, she’s assigned to Tower 137 where she spends eight hours per day Wednesday through Sunday every summer for the past three years. Stacie had ended up assigned to 145, a solid mile down the coastline. It’s far enough that they can’t socialize beyond seeing each other at the top and bottom of their shifts in the station.

Given the circumstances, she figures that’s for the best.

When Stacie knows Beca has a crush, she can be insufferable. And four weeks ago, Beca made the fatal error of implying she found the newly assigned guard at 138 attractive. Their schedules are all the same and more than once, Beca’s had to change into her two-piece uniform standing next to 138, whose locker is, naturally, right next to Beca’s 137.

  
Since then, Beca’s made it a point to beat Stacie in and out of the locker room to avoid anything inappropriate her friend might want to try (something involving leering or really inappropriate comments, she assumes). It’s easy to do since Beca’s tower is much closer to the station.

Realizing she’s daydreaming instead of doing her job, she quickly scans the beach looking for the troublemakers she’s kept an eye on all day; they’d been drinking and she suspects they’re underage based on the enthusiasm of said drinking and though she hasn’t seen it, the distinct smell of marijuana has drifted from their area more than once. She’s not there to be law enforcement, but she does wish they’d make smarter choices. A beach rife with rip currents isn’t the best place to get drunk and high and then try to swim.

The group is gone from their homestead of towels, coolers, and umbrellas and she sits up on alert to squint through her sunglasses to locate them, and she knows exactly where to look.

She counts five heads bobbing in the water along the jetty; their group is seven and furtively, she waits for the other two to appear. When they do, it’s not in the water but atop the jetty, hopping from rock to rock, tottering dangerously off-balance with each landing.

She chirps her whistle once to get their attention. It goes ignored and she hears 138 do the same a few seconds later. 138 is on the opposite side of the jetty mirroring Beca’s stand. They’re both watching the situation and the boys who are ignoring them in favor of showing off for their buddies or girls on the beach. “Don’t do it. Don’t you dare fucking do it.”

She whistles again, twice this time, and signals with her hand to confirm 138 is indeed watching the same thing and she squints across the short distance and hears the reply whistles and matching hand signal.

The whistles aren’t doing a thing to stop the boys who’ve made it all the way to the end of the jetty. They’re acting like they’re ready to dive, arms windmilling about like they’re trying to be Michael Phelps.

“Shit,” she says, whipping off her sunglasses to drop them on her chair as she climbs down.

She hears 138’s three whistles and echoes them; they’re both out of their towers and heading into the water. She grabs one of the rescue cans waiting upright in the sand and throws the strap over her head as she starts running, having to weave around sunbathers oblivious to what’s about to happen.

She dives over the wave that rolls in once the water’s thigh-high and drops the float, towing it behind her as she swims out to sea. She’s made it half the length of the jetty when she sees one of them dive.

Fear slices through her, the trauma of last year roaring back to life, and then she’s on autopilot. Pulling and propelling herself forward. Past the boy’s friends who have yet to notice their buddy hasn’t surfaced. Past the end of the jetty where she’d seen him jump. She takes a breath and then dives down, struggling to see in the murky water. But then she finds him, unconscious, hovering just above the sea floor.

She kicks until she reaches him and it’s not until she has her arms under his that she realizes how big he is. It won’t be an issue to get him to the surface, but it will be a challenge to get him to shore.

She grabs him and pushes off the bottom, lifting him with ease until both their heads are above water.

“Can you hear me?” she asks as she begins kicking them back toward shore. She doesn’t expect a response and doesn’t receive one. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Stay with me, buddy.” She kicks harder and then a splash behind her gets her attention. She twists to look and sees another bright red can floating a few feet ahead.

“I’ll tow you in! Come on!”

She sees 138 on the other end, already turning to swim to shore and Beca adjusts the victim, shoving her own float under his heavy arms before throwing her hand out to catch the back of 138’s.

She kicks to help and once they’re shallow enough starts pushing along the bottom.

“Okay, I got his left. Ready?”

She looks up to see 138 crouching to get a hold of the young man and Beca gets her feet back under her to do the same. “Ready.”

They rush him to shore to lower him to the sand once out of the water’s reach.

Together, they run through First Aid procedures. His airway is clear, but he’s not breathing and Beca can’t find a pulse. A quick check of his eyes indicates he has likely not broken his neck; his pupils shrink in the bright sun.

“Breaths. Go!”

Beca uses the few seconds of 138 doing chest compressions to catch her own breath before it's her turn to lean down and try to breathe life back into the teenager.

She barely finishes her second exhale when he’s coughing and sputtering and rolling onto his side to vomit up seawater and beer.

She falls away, sitting hard on her ass in the sand as she watches him recover and only then takes notice of their audience. It seems half the beach is gathered around them, most of whom break out into whoops and cheers at his return to consciousness.

138 is across from her, breathing just as hard as she is, and smiles at Beca while paramedics take over.

“Beale, Mitchell. Great job.”

Beca looks up to see their superior, a tall blonde who loves her whistle a little too much for Beca’s liking, nodding down at them approvingly. She offers a hand next, pulling Beca to her feet, then 138.

“That was amazing teamwork. What do you think about putting a course together for multi-guard rescue?”

Beca’s still not quite breathing at her normal rate again and their Beach Captain is already asking her to do more work? “What do you mean, put a course together?” she says before taking another deep breath to get her heart rate to slow. “There’s a course already; I took it.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Beca glances at 138—Beale, apparently—and now that they’re not racing to save an idiot’s life, notices her attractiveness has been escalated significantly now that she’s soaking wet.

“The instructor put in her notice; comes with bonus pay and gets you off the beach two days a week.”

Beca glances at the redhead who’s looking at her much the same. She’s about to speak when she realizes they’re already communicating. How? She doesn’t know. But it feels like she can almost read her thoughts on the matter by sharing a look and they both nod.

“Okay, sure.”

“Yeah, totes. Sounds fun! Thanks, Bree!”

She can’t help but notice how not-exhausted and chipper 138 sounds after just saving a person’s life. Not that Beca’s unhappy with the outcome; she just doesn’t have the energy for it at the moment.

“I asked you not to call me that when we’re working,” their captain says through clenched teeth. 

“Oops! Sorry, Captain Posen. My bad.”

“Good. You’re both off-duty with pay for the rest of the day. Grab your gear and stop by my office and we’ll get it set up.”

The crowd is already dispersed by the time their short conversation ends. Even the emergency team is packed up and pulling out, their victim cleared and stumbling back toward their spot on the beach with the help of his friends. She accounts for all seven of them and is relieved when she remembers two had been up on the jetty ready to dive but only one had done so. Their captain is also departing, hopping into the small pickup truck with surfboards strapped to its roof to head back toward their station.

“I’m Chloe, by the way.”

Beca turns back and jumps a little at 138’s unexpected proximity. Her hands are on her hips and she’s smiling brightly and it’s all Beca can do to not let her eyes roam down over curves and water-hardened nipples and defined abs. “Beca.”

“I know.” Chloe holds out her hand for a shake and Beca accepts it and almost trips over her feet when she’s pulled in for a hug. “You were so awesome out there.”

“Um,” she stutters, feeling every square inch where their bodies are touching, most of it skin-to-skin and that which isn’t might as well be for how it feels, “thanks.”

“I’ve never had to do that before,” Chloe says as they part. Beca notices that while she’s not winded or seemingly tired, her face is flushed. “Not like that.”

Beca stoops to grab her can and starts winding up her line. “That’s a good thing.”

“Have you?” Chloe does the same and Beca wishes she had her sunglasses so she could stare at the way Chloe’s bicep flexes in the sun as she does so.

“A few times.” She’s still thinking about the boy last summer, the memories stirring up so fresh it’s as though it had just happened, that this rescue had been him, and that he hadn’t been as fortunate to get up and walk back with his friends.

“Maybe you can tell me about them some time? I’d love to hear your stories.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she answers noncommittally. She’s not sure that she really wants to revisit some of the stories, especially That One, but she doesn’t feel inclined to tell Chloe ‘no’ outright. “I’m going to go grab my stuff from my tower and head in. I guess I’ll see you...later?”

“Oh, definitely. See you later.”

* * *

Beca’s half-dressed in shorts and a bra sitting on the locker room bench when she’s startled out of her daze.

“Hoped I might see you back here.”

She looks up to see Chloe not even hesitate to pull her sports-style bikini top over her head and hang it on a hook in her locker. It’s a stark interruption after the darkness she was trying to shake when trying to figure out what to text Stacie to let her know she was finished for the day. The news of the rescue had surely made it to her by now and if the seven unread texts and two missed calls were anything to go by, Stacie was worried.

The greeting comes with a wink and Beca looks away hurriedly and back at her phone and in doing so, remembers she has yet to put on a shirt. She doesn’t reply to Stacie, and she doesn’t reply to Chloe; instead, she gets up to grab a tank top out of her bag to pull on over her head.

“I realized I don’t have your contact info or anything,” Chloe continues as if Beca’s engaged the conversation. “I mean, Bree will have it but I thought we should probably make a plan to get together.”

“What?” Beca says, looking up sharply after pulling her wet hair out of the back of her shirt.

Chloe’s legitimately nude save for the towel she has draped over her arm. She seems to lack all modesty. “We should start putting together our course right away.”

“Right,” Beca answers, focusing hard on staring at Chloe’s face.

“I’m going to take a quick rinse. Wait for me? We can go to Bree’s office together and go to my place and order pizza. I think we earned it today.”

“Bree, yeah,” Beca replies dumbly. 

Chloe responds with all Beca can describe as a happy squeak and a bounce that makes her try even harder to keep her eyes on her face and then Chloe’s around the corner and into the showers.

Beca releases the breath she didn’t realize she was holding and sinks back to the bench and finally thumbs open her phone to tap out a quick text.

_“He’s okay,”_ she writes.

_“What about you??”_ fires back immediately.

_“I’ll be fine.”_

_“Smalls…”_

_“Boobs…”_ Beca replies with Stacie’s nickname in kind. _“I said I’m fine. Cap is going to let us teach a course.”_

_“Us?”_

_“Me and 138.”_

The words and emojis that come as a response are so lewd Beca actually clicks her phone to sleep until the messages cease. _“I’m going to her place to start working on it today.”_

More suggestiveness follows but Beca tolerates it; the humor is helping to dust away the darkness and anxiety that had been creeping up on her. _“So don’t wait up for me. ;)”_

She mutes her phone knowing it’s about to blow up and laughs to herself. Stacie is something else when she thinks someone is going to get laid, and she wouldn’t change a thing about her.

Not that Beca’s going to get laid any time soon.

* * *

“Ham and pineapple,” Beca answers from her spot on Chloe’s couch. She’s trying to not be too obvious about looking around the place to learn more about who Chloe is. At the moment, she’s on the pizzeria’s website ordering their dinner and she squeals at Beca’s response.

“You like pineapple on your pizza!”

“Yeah, dude,” Beca says with nervous laughter thanks to the sudden outburst. “Who doesn’t?”

“Weirdos, that’s who.” Chloe says it as though the division between pineapple-on-pizza lovers and anti-pineapple-on-pizza people is a matter of political diplomacy as she finishes ordering and sets aside her computer. “Okay, thirty-to-forty minutes.”

“Cool.” She shifts and twists to face Chloe better where she sits on the opposite end of the couch. “So, I have no idea how to put a lifesaving course together. Thought I should be upfront with you about that.”

Chloe laughs and it’s filled with such amusement it’s contagious and Beca can’t help but smile. “Well,” Chloe starts after the laughter, “it looks like the course is pretty much laid out already.” She pulls the binder off the coffee table they’d been given by their boss and puts it on the empty cushion between them. She opens it and flips through the pages full of illustrations, tables, and step-by-step instructions. “Bree just needs us to teach it, not write it.”

“Wait, you call her Bree?” Beca finally asks; she’d been meaning to earlier but there hadn’t been a good moment to do so.

“Duh! She’s my best friend.”

“You’re best friends with our boss?”

“No, my best friend is our boss,” Chloe corrects. “An important distinction. We were guards together.”

“Posen’s been my captain since I started; how long have you been doing this?”

Chloe thinks about it for a few seconds. “This is my fourth year, but Bree started as a junior lifeguard so she had the jump on me and got the promotion.”

Beca doesn’t really care about when or how her boss joined the crew. “Wait, you’ve been doing this for four years?”

Chloe nods.

“How have I never seen you until this season?”

“How can you be so sure you haven’t?”

“I think I’d remember.” Beca says it without thinking and only when the words are out does she realize they are a blatant pickup line. She’d apologize if Chloe didn’t immediately break into a grin.

“I used to be up north. When Bree got reassigned to Barden Beach for this season, she brought me down with her.”

It’s a straightforward explanation that doesn’t leave any open ends for natural follow-up conversation and Beca struggles to think of something to say.

“Let’s go through the first chapter, hmm?” Chloe continues and Beca’s relieved that she’s comfortable steering the conversation.

Beca scoots over a little to see the pages better and notices Chloe doing the same. “Cool, yeah.”

“For the record,” Chloe says absently while they both scan the first page, “I’d remember if I saw you, too.”

Beca blushes so hard she feels like her face is on fire but Chloe never looks up from the binder; she is, however, wearing a very small, soft smile on her lips.

* * *

“Tell me everything,” Stacie says the second Beca’s through the front door.

Beca rolls her eyes. “Nothing happened.”

“Something happened. I can tell.”

“Dude,” Beca laughs while she kicks off her slides and pulls her still-damp suit out of her bag with intent to go rinse it out in the bathroom sink and hang it to dry. “I’m serious.”

“But you’re, like, glowing.”

Beca shakes her head and makes a beeline for the bathroom.

It wasn’t _not_ nothing that happened. They’d studied the first three chapters until Beca yawned, then Chloe yawned. They agreed to call it a night and made plans to meet up again on Friday after their shift. Chloe walked her to the door and, in parting, leaned in and kissed Beca’s cheek.

That’s all it was, but she’d lingered a second longer than necessary and her hand had squeezed Beca’s and she’d whispered, “Good night,” so sweetly Beca finally understood what it meant to feel butterflies.

Stacie’s already staring at her when she returns as though she hadn’t looked away the entire duration of Beca’s absence. “Tell me.”

“Nothing happened!” she says with a laugh and she knows she’s being too defensive by the way Stacie narrows her eyes and cocks an eyebrow at her. “Okay, fine: she kissed me. On the cheek! On the cheek!” she adds vehemently when Stacie leaps off the couch and barrels into her to pick her up and twirl her in a circle.

“I knew it!”

“Put me down!” she shrieks, kicking her legs to try to free herself.

Stacie returns her to the ground after another spin. “You dog.”

“Literally, no.” She dusts herself off indignantly and moves out of her reach to help herself to a beer from the fridge.

Stacie flops back onto the couch. “But you got her to kiss you.”

“I didn’t _get_ her to do anything.” Beca tosses the bottle cap in the trash before using her foot to push Stacie’s legs off her side of the couch. “It’s not a big deal and doesn’t have to mean anything.” She’d like to think it meant something, but she doesn’t want Stacie building it up for her only for it to end in disappointment; she’s doing a fine enough job of that on her own. “You see her at the station; she’s just super friendly.”

“Oh, I’ve seen her at the station all right,” Stacie says and it’s so dirty Beca feels like she needs a shower. “She’s never given me much more than the time of day, though. Seems her attention is usually on you.”

She hides her blush behind a swig of beer. “Shut up. It is not...is it?”

“Oh yeah,” Stacie leers at her. “I started paying attention when you told me you had a boner for her.”

“Stacie!” Beca grimaces. “Can you not? That’s gross. I don’t have a—a boner for her.”

“Well, you might not have one on you, but I know for a fact you have one in your dresser.” Stacie jerks her thumb over her shoulder toward Beca’s bedroom.

Beca pulls her knees up to her chest so she can let her face fall to them. “Remind me again why I’m friends with you?”

“Because I’m awesome.” 

When Beca flicks her eyes up she’s unsurprised to see Stacie grinning proudly. “Whatever.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll drop it for now. Tell me about your rescue today? If you want to.” Stacie’s change in topic is welcomed, especially with how casual it is.

“Yeah, I can tell you about it.” Beca lifts her head and can tell Stacie has well and true let the topic of Chloe-as-a-romantic-interest go for the time being.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

“You should bring your rain gear out today.”

Beca glances past her open locker door at Chloe who’s folding her own rain gear into her bag. “Really? It’s supposed to rain?”

“My phone says around 2:00.”

“Thanks.” She drops her whistle around her neck and slings her bag over her shoulder to shove her poncho and pants into it. “Hope I don’t have to see you out there today,” she tries as a joke.

It lands, but not as well as she’d have liked. Chloe looks equal parts amused and shocked.

“Too soon?” She closes her locker and spins the dial on it. “You know what I meant, right?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Chloe says with amusement. “See you later?”

“Sure, yeah.” Beca gives her an awkward wave and takes her leave. She knows they could walk together at least part of the way to their towers but making small talk with Chloe feels impossible after the way Stacie’s and her brains have twisted up her thoughts. Speaking of Stacie, she’s never been so grateful her friend got caught up flirting with the intern working the front desk. Beca didn’t need her there to make assuredly inappropriate statements around the two of them.

The forecast makes for a light crowd. It’s mostly locals, the regulars she sees there almost daily tanning themselves to leather, most of them well past their 60s. She tries not to be judgmental because good for them, being confident in their string bikinis and Speedos. But...she thinks she probably could have gone her entire life and been okay not staring at them every day.

She sees the clouds rolling in and checks the time on her phone: 2:10. She hasn’t even put it away when she feels a raindrop hit her foot, the only thing not sheltered by her umbrella. She hears it hitting the umbrella, a light, steady rain that has the beachgoers packing up their towels and chairs to seek shelter. She hears two quick tweets of a whistle and turns to her right toward Tower 138. She sees Chloe facing her with her hand in the air.

No message follows the signal; it’s not necessary. Beca reads it loud and clear.

“I told you so.”

She tweets back twice in acknowledgment and can’t stop the smile from creeping up on her.

It’s nice that Chloe’s thinking of her, even if it’s to gloat.

* * *

“What a boring day.”

“I needed it after yesterday,” Beca replies as she hangs her rain gear in her locker.

“Good point.” Chloe pulls on a T-shirt that’s had its sleeves cut off over her swimsuit.

“You’re not changing?” Beca immediately bites her tongue and hides her face behind her locker door. 

“Disappointed?” She can hear the smirk in Chloe’s voice and doesn’t dare to look at her. “Suit’s dry.”

“I’m not...no.” Beca fumbles with her own shirt to tug it on before she dares meet Chloe’s eyes again.

She doesn’t wait long enough, because when she does, Chloe replies with, “Bummer,” and a wink that makes Beca slam her locker with far too much force. “See you tomorrow? Can you read chapters four through six beforehand so we can hit the ground running?”

“Yeah, sure. Bye,” she says as she rushes out of the station.

* * *

Beca has to put up with Stacie’s comments and texts all damn day on Friday. It’s a blessing and a curse that Stacie has the day off; it’s another day of not having her in the locker room with them, but she now has all the time in the world to send peach and lips and scissors and tongue and water droplet emojis to Beca.

And one eggplant.

_“I seriously need you to stop now,”_ she texts as she and Chloe walk up the steps to Chloe’s apartment.

She receives a thumbs up in reply and, thankfully, her phone finally stops vibrating.

“So, what do you want tonight?”

Beca looks up from where she’s setting her bag to see Chloe rifling through a drawer in her kitchen. She’s pulling out takeout menus to toss them onto the counter.

“Chinese? Sushi? Tacos? Thai? There’s a really good diner that delivers. They have burgers and sandwiches and stuff.” She bundles up the menus and brings them to Beca to fan them out like a magician with a deck of cards.

“Maybe the diner?”

Chloe smiles. “Exactly what I was thinking.” She peels back the top two menus to prompt Beca to pull the one labeled ‘Eddie’s on Main’ out of the stack.

Beca waits on the couch looking over the notes she brought while Chloe calls in their order: a cheeseburger and fries for Beca and a chicken sandwich and sweet potato fries for Chloe.

“Okay, so, whatcha got?” Chloe asks as she drops down onto the couch on the neutral middle cushion and not the far one.

Beca clears her throat. “Um, I jotted down some thoughts about how we can demonstrate a submerged passive. Figured since that’s what got us this gig…”

“Good idea. Who’s going to play the victim?”

“A volunteer. We have to demonstrate the two-person assist.”

“Oh, duh,” Chloe says with what might be an embarrassed laugh.

The possibility that Chloe could be embarrassed around her strangely gives Beca a dose of much-needed confidence and she’s able to walk Chloe through her lesson plan with ease.

It takes just long enough that their food arrives and they mutually agree to not discuss work while they eat.

Beca learns that Chloe works as a receptionist in a veterinary clinic during the off-season, is from Florida (which explains her affinity for the beach), and has an older brother. Beca shares her lack of siblings, obsession with making playlists, and how despite growing up on the Pacific Ocean in Portland, she’s never been big on beaches.

“How can you not love the beach?!” Chloe screeches, personally offended. 

“There’s always sand in my stuff. Even stuff I don’t bring to work. There’s sand everywhere in my house! And it’s hot. And sunny; I burn so easily.”

“You’re not sunburned now.”

“That’s because I bathe in sunscreen and refuse to leave the safety of my umbrella unless I’m going on a rescue or a break.”

“Then I bet your skin is super soft.”

“I don’t know about that,” Beca says with a frown at her arms. “I just perpetually smell like SPF 70.” When she sees, then feels, Chloe’s fingertip run up her arm from wrist to elbow, her breath catches. “Oh.”

“Super soft,” Chloe confirms and Beca lifts her eyes to find herself being watched. “And I always think you smell nice. Neutrogena, right?” she adds and Beca feels the unexpected moment of tension break.

“Uh, yeah. It’s my favorite.”

Chloe smiles. “It’s a good one. Love a reliable spray-on that lasts.” She glances at something behind Beca and her smile falls. “It’s almost midnight.”

“What? No way,” Beca says, twisting to see the clock she assumes is behind her. “Oh, damn. I had no idea.”

“Where’d the time go?”

They both laugh and then Beca feels tension settle over them again. She thinks about what Stacie said, even insisted: that Chloe pays attention to Beca. She’s certainly paying attention to her now. Beca feels warm under her gaze which seems as soft as it does intense. And they’re still sitting so close. Chloe had begun the evening on the middle cushion and over the course of the hours Beca’s seemed to have lost, is a third of the way onto Beca’s cushion.

“I like you, Beca.”

Chloe’s voice is so unexpected that it makes Beca flinch.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be weird,” she quickly adds, and Beca realizes her reaction to the sound has come across as her reaction to the words based on the look on Chloe’s face.

“No, no, it’s not weird,” Beca says, probably too emphatically.

“It’s not?”

“No, of course, it’s not. I like you, too.” She says it without thinking, out of a need to comfort her.

She watches Chloe tuck her hair behind her ear, a rare moment of bashfulness from the usually confident woman. “I mean I _like_ you. As more than a friend.”

Beca now understands how she lost track of hours of time; she feels the very concept of it disappear.

“I really don’t want to make anything weird between us, and it’s totes okay if you just want to be friends. I just think about you all the time and I think you’re such a cool person and I think you deserve to know that.”

Beca can hear Stacie yelling at her: _Make a move! She totally wants you! Take her to bed!_

“I really like you, too.” There. She said it. All she can do is wait to see what happens next.

Apparently, what happens next is Chloe’s moment of bashfulness disappears to be replaced with such an air of sensuality Beca can almost taste it. “You do?” she says with a slow smile and a glance at Beca’s lips.

It makes Beca wet them on reflex, suddenly aware they’re dry and chapped from the windy day and that seems to make Chloe bite her own lip. Her palms are sweating and she knows she’s about five seconds from being kissed.

In past scenarios similar to this, Beca has done such idiotic things as jutting out her hand for a fist bump, hugging complete with a buddy clap to the back, sneezed, and literally stood up and ran away from the person. She still felt a little bad about that one; he’d been a nice guy and didn’t deserve her inability to communicate her feelings (or lack thereof).

Tonight, she runs out of time to make a dumb mistake and lets her eyes fall closed when Chloe’s lips touch hers.

It’s nice to not fuck it up right away.

It’s nicer when she stops thinking about not being dumb and actually registers the fact that Chloe has kissed her. She spent so much time being relieved that the kiss has already ended.

Chloe’s still close, and she’s looking at Beca with curiosity. “Was that okay?”

“Yeah,” Beca kind of croaks and clears her throat.

“Are you sure? Because you didn’t seem...into it. And that’s okay if you weren’t; I’m not trying to rush you into anything and I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to do that.”

“Shit.”

“What?”

Beca’s eyes go wide; she hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “No, nothing. It’s dumb.”

Chloe’s hand moves to rest over Beca’s. “It’s not dumb; you can tell me.”

“Trust me, it is,” Beca says with a roll of her eyes. “I was so focused on not doing something dumb that I did something dumb. Ironic.”

“What do you mean?” To her credit, Chloe seems unfazed by Beca’s failure to reciprocate.

Beca pushes her hair back and stares at the ceiling for a second. Then, “Usually, when someone tries to kiss me, I panic and do something dumb.”

“Like what?” Chloe says, a smile of amusement sneaking into her features.

“I once faked getting a phone call.”

“We’ve all pretended to be on our phones. That’s not so bad.”

“But it didn’t even ring. Or vibrate. It _did_ ring when I was fake-talking on it. And there was the time I told someone I had diarrhea and had to go home. Jesus, why am I telling you this?” She frowns; she really doesn’t need to share her history of idiocy with others.

“Oh, no!” Chloe laughs. “I guess you really didn’t want to kiss that person.”

“No, I did not,” she says resolutely and Chloe seems even more amused.

“So just now, you did nothing.”

“Right.”

“Because…” Chloe prompts.

“Because I didn’t want to do something dumb.”

Chloe’s amusement has reached her eyes and they’re sparkling to an unfair degree. “And why is that?”

They’re hypnotizing, really. Beca can’t be held accountable for her words or actions. “Because I wanted you to kiss me.” She presses her lips together for their traitorous honesty.

Chloe hums. “Now that I know you might do something dumb, but that you want me to kiss you: can we try that again?”

Beca’s heart races. “You sure about that? I can’t promise I won’t feign sudden illness.”

“I don’t think you will, but I’m ready for anything,” Chloe says and Beca shivers at how lightly her hand is moving up her arm until it’s on Beca’s shoulder and just shy of touching her neck. She’s so close again, leaning in and Beca can feel her breath on her lips where she’s hovering, waiting for Beca’s go-ahead.

She nods.

Chloe’s lips are on hers in an instant and this time, there aren’t a dozen past scenarios running through her brain. It’s crystal clear and empty save for the way Chloe’s lips feel on her own and this time, she kisses her back.

Chloe makes a sound, Beca thinks it’s maybe one of relief, or maybe contentment, but whatever it is makes Beca not simply kiss her back but _kiss her._

Her hand lifts to find Chloe’s face, to touch her cheek then the sharp line of her jaw until her fingers weave through windswept red curls to tilt Chloe just-so and tease her bottom lip with a touch of her tongue.

Chloe’s reaction is quick, a sharp exhale and a deep breath and then Chloe’s pulling her in, welcoming Beca into her mouth with her own tongue in such a way that it makes Beca whimper. She’s never been made to feel such things from a kiss before, like she’d give up oxygen in exchange for it to keep going forever.

It’s so warm and soft. Hands on cheeks and shy smiles as their lips meet again and again as their confidence grows and kisses grow more persistent and daring. More passionate.

She feels Chloe pressing closer, one hand behind Beca’s neck, the other somewhere along her waist, or hip, or ribs and Beca, running on instinct, pushes back. With a hand to Chloe’s shoulder, she pushes her away, turns her until she’s not twisted anymore, until she’s sitting back on the couch, and then Beca slips over her lap, knees settling against Chloe’s hips.

She hears Chloe moan and it makes her thighs flex. “Is this okay?” she breathes against Chloe’s lips as she brushes Chloe’s hair from her face and out of Beca’s way.

Hands squeeze her waist and pull her down to settle against Chloe’s lap and there’s a shakey, “Very,” as an answer before they’re kissing again.

It’s easier to lick into Chloe’s mouth from this angle. Easier for Chloe’s hands to slide up Beca’s back over her shirt. Easier for Beca to run her hands through Chloe’s hair when she moves her mouth from Beca’s lips to Beca’s neck.

She feels a mark being left and moans again. Chloe echoes it and it makes her twitch with need. Chloe’s hands drag down Beca’s back but they don’t stop at her waist. They move until they’re both on Beca’s ass and they squeeze, giving a less-than-subtle tug forward and Beca’s hips roll on instinct.

Her thin shorts do little to interfere with the friction that comes as a result and she grabs the back of the couch, suddenly lightheaded in the best possible way.

“Fuck, oh, my God,” she gasps, using the hand in Chloe’s hair to ease her mouth away from her skin.

Chloe, dark eyes and pink cheeks, smiles up at her and Beca has no choice but to lean down and kiss her, hard and deep, until she retreats with Chloe’s lip caught between her teeth to give it the lightest tug.

Beca smiles and sits back, relaxing after every muscle in her body tensing with need. “Wow, okay.”

“Just okay?” Chloe teases and her usual tight, chipper voice is uncharacteristically low and syrupy and Beca can’t quite fathom it’s because of her.

There’s another squeeze of her ass and she bites her lip. Her body is screaming at her, demanding release, but it’s way too soon to go that far. “What time is it?”

Chloe leans and Beca first ducks, then lifts her arm, to try to get out of the way. “Pushing 1:00.”

“Oh, shit,” Beca says with a burst of embarrassing giggles that make her cover her mouth. No wonder she’s wound up so tightly.

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Chloe says with a waggle of her eyebrows. Her hands slide up to hold Beca’s waist and Beca can’t help but be a little disappointed even though she’s the one who’s slowed things down. “How’s your stomach?”

Beca tilts her head. “What?”

“Your stomach. No digestion issues? The restroom is just down the hall.”

It takes her a second, then she remembers her embarrassing confession. “Oh, my God, shut up.”

“No food poisoning?”

“Nope; I’m good.”

“Yeah, you are.” Chloe almost purrs the words and Beca feels like her spine is made of Jell-O. 

She almost melts into a puddle but catches herself, resting her forehead against Chloe’s. She runs her thumb along Chloe’s lip, watching her lips purse to kiss it, before leaning in to kiss her. “I should go,” she says begrudgingly when they part.

The puppy dog eyes and pout she gets in response should be illegal, but Chloe says, “Okay,” and doesn’t try to convince her to stay.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” She doesn’t quite yet have the willpower to extract herself from Chloe’s lap, but she’s working up to it.

“Definitely.” Chloe’s hands leave her after one last squeeze to her waist and Beca’s finally able to slide backward off Chloe and onto unsteady legs. 

She tugs the legs of her shorts down from where they’ve ridden up and tries not to blush when she notices just how turned on she was. Is. “Okay. Um…” She looks around to find her phone, long forgotten on the table and her bag on the floor. She grabs them both. “So...yeah. I...had fun.”

Chloe smiles dreamily up at her. “Me, too.” If Beca didn’t know better, she’d think Chloe was drunk.

“So, yeah. I’m gonna go.” She hooks her thumb over her shoulder toward the door and expects Chloe to get up and walk her out but all she gets in response is a nod. She’s working on being confused and offended when she sees Chloe burst into a smile at her, then throw her head back to do what Beca can only classify as squealing.

“Weirdo,” Beca laughs as she pulls open Chloe’s front door.

“Thanks!” 

She steals one more look before stepping into the warm darkness.

She hopes Stacie is asleep when she gets home.

* * *

“You have a hickey!”

“Dude, how can you possibly see that from there?!” Beca’s hands fly to her throat; she doesn’t even know where it is or how big it is yet. Chloe’s lips spent a long time all over her neck.

“Oh, holy fuck, do you really?” Stacie tosses aside the _Cosmopolitan_ magazine she’d been reading and gets off the couch.

“Wait, what?” Beca drops her bag by the door and in doing so, unmasks whatever mess her neck is in.

“I just wanted to see what you’d say.” Stacie flips the switch for the light just inside the door and grabs Beca’s chin to crane her neck around like a bobblehead. “Oh, shit, you do!”

There’s a flick of a finger against her neck and Beca twists and ducks under her arm to escape. “How bad is it?” she says as she makes her way through the mostly dark house to the bathroom.

“It’s awesome.”

Beca shoots her a look and then looks at herself in the mirror. She does have a hickey, deep purple and roughly the diameter of Chloe’s lips. If she’d realized it would be this obvious, she would have stopped her. Maybe. “Seriously?” she says as she rubs at it as if that will erase it.

“Tell me everything.”

Beca glances at Stacie, now leaning against the frame of the open bathroom door grinning like a Cheshire Cat. “Why do you always need to be up in my business?”

“Because you never have business for me to be up in. It’s fun when you do. Now, tell me.”

“Oh, my God. We made out, okay?” She gestures at her neck, “Obviously,” and then reaches for her foaming face wash to get ready for bed. 

“Was she good? I bet she’s so good. A snacc like that; she knows a thing or two.”

“Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Okay, I take it back. But you didn’t answer my question. Was she good?”

Beca takes a beat to rinse her face and looks at Stacie over the towel as she pats it dry. “You have no idea.”

Stacie shrieks and Beca finds herself in a hug, the towel the only thing from saving her from a faceful of Stacie’s boobs. “I told you she was into you! Didn’t I tell you?”

“Yes, Stace, you told me,” Beca says with a grunt as she frees herself. “Now get out; I have to pee.”

“I don’t care; you can pee in front of me.” Stacie leans against the counter, hip cocked like she has no intention of leaving.

Beca closes her eyes and takes a breath; she knows what she’s about to say will be used against her in the court of Stacie Conrad, but she has no choice. “Look, man. TMI, but I was just on top of her for like an hour and I need to,” she gestures downward, “tidy things up.”

“Oh, shit; she ruined the underwear? How long has it been for you?”

“That doesn’t matter! It’s a perfectly normal physical response to have. Now would you please get out?” 

“Wait, did you say you were on top?”

“Stacie!” She points at the door and her friend finally rolls her eyes.

“Fine. But don’t think this is over; we’re revisiting this event. And I’ll leave Buzz Lightyear on your bed. I know you need it tonight.” She pulls the door closed behind her.

“I still say it’s weird you named your vibrator after a Disney character!” She strips her shorts and underwear down and kicks them aside and sighs. “Thank you!”

* * *

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

Beca’s filled with nervous energy on her way to work the next day. She wants to see Chloe again, but she also hopes nothing is awkward or weird between them. She’s never had any type of a “thing” with a coworker before and she’s not certain what the interaction protocol is.

It’s unclear if it’s a blessing or a curse that Stacie has a shift today, too, and that they’re arriving at the station together. On one hand, Stacie will have her back. On the other hand, Stacie will have her back.

She’ll either have a lifeline if things are weird or someone to help make things weird.

As Beca had feared (eagerly anticipated?), Chloe’s at her locker when they walk in and Stacie elbows Beca in the ribs.

Beca returns the favor and breathes a sigh of relief when Stacie doesn’t do or say anything else upon their arrival. She goes to her locker and begins changing as though she’s none the wiser to what transpired between her two coworkers last night.

“Hey,” Beca says when she’s close enough.

Chloe’s already finished changing into her suit and for that, Beca is grateful. “Good morning,” she says with a bright smile. Her sunglasses are perched on her head and her hair, which Beca can distinctly remember feeling between her fingers, is piled into a bun. “Oh, oh no!” she says with sudden concern and Beca’s still trying to figure out if there’s a spider on her when Chloe’s brushing her fingers over Beca’s neck.

“Oh, yeah, that.” She relaxes, as much she can with Chloe’s fingers on her skin. “Thanks for that.” She hadn’t bothered trying to cover it up before she left the house; between the sunscreen, sweat, and possible water, it would have been in vain.

“Sorry,” Chloe says with a grimace but Beca can see the smile hiding behind it.

“No, you’re not.” She smirks at her and pops open her locker to hang her bag in it. 

Chloe scrunches her nose at her. “Not really.”

Beca gives her the side-eye but lets it slide. She has bigger things to think about, like the fact that Chloe’s ready to leave yet seems to be waiting for Beca, which means Beca will have to change in front of her.

It’s not like she’s never done it before; they’ve undressed and dressed in front of one another dozens of times, but this is the first time it’s happened the morning after Beca straddled her and had her tongue down her throat for an hour. They went from semi-familiar coworkers to something significantly more than that and with it comes an element of modesty.

She tries to push past it, starting with her shirt. She hangs it over a hook in her locker and keeps her eyes forward or down so as to not meet Chloe’s which she can feel on her every move.

“You’re so hot.”

She can’t control her head from twisting to glare. “We are at work,” she whispers harshly. All of it is unnecessary, she knows in the back of her mind, but still. “You don’t have to leer at me.”

“I’m not going to do anything. I’m a professional.” Chloe beams at her and leans against her locker, still intent on waiting it out for Beca but she can feel Chloe avert her eyes more than she was.

She does kind of like the attention, but she makes quick work of the rest of her clothing and avoids eye contact with Chloe until she’s finished.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” Chloe says with a wink as she reaches back into her locker.

“No, I’m not,” Beca huffs but she knows she’s blushing.

“Yes, you are,” Chloe replies with a shrug. “I got you something.”

“You what?” Beca looks down at the item in Chloe’s hand and then smiles. “Oh, hey, thanks! I think I’m almost out.” She grabs the can of Neutrogena sunscreen spray and puts it in her bag to take with her to her tower.

“No prob.” They close their lockers in tandem and Beca can’t help but notice Stacie is taking her sweet-ass time getting herself ready to go. “Do you want to come over again tonight?”

Beca’s attention is immediately back on Chloe. “Tonight?”

“I’m not trying to be too forward or anything. We didn’t really get much work done yesterday?” She’s sheepish as she says it but still smiling up at Beca through long eyelashes and it makes her think that maybe she _is_ trying to be forward with her invitation.

Her suspicion is confirmed when Chloe bites her bottom lip, a tick Beca noticed when Chloe wants something (specifically, it seems, when she wants Beca).

“Sure, yeah. But we actually need to finish the outline. We have to actually teach the lesson tomorrow.”

“Oh, totes,” Chloe says emphatically. “We’ll totally finish the outline.”

“Okay.” Beca hesitates, but only for a second. “Walk me to my tower?”

“I was waiting for you to ask!”

* * *

They do not finish the outline.

The second they’re through Chloe’s front door, Beca’s being dragged (willingly) through the apartment until she’s pulling Chloe down on top of her where they’ve landed on the couch.

“I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day,” Chloe says while she does just that.

“Same,” is all Beca replies before letting Chloe reclaim her mouth.

She moans into it because it’s instantly hot and passionate. They learned last night how each other moves and breathes and Beca puts less into “how” and more into “now.” Like how right now, she’s going to work the scrunchie out of Chloe’s hair because she wants it to curtain them off from the world. Because she wants it tangled between her fingers.

The way they’ve landed, Beca knows if either of them moves too much, things will get a lot more intimate. She anchors herself to the couch and refuses to give in to her body’s demands and the tension she feels in Chloe’s lower back when she runs her hands over it tells her she’s doing the same.

The self-restraint is a bothersome distraction and, in the very spare moments she has to think, she ponders what the harm would be.

Really, what _would_ the harm be?

What’s so wrong about settling against one another, rocking in rhythm, making each other feel good? They’re adults. It’s not like Beca’s never had a one-night-stand before, and Chloe’s already way more than that.

That thought makes her take pause. She doesn’t want to move too fast. She doesn’t want to fuck anything up. She _really_ likes Chloe and she’s pretty sure Chloe _really_ likes her, too and there’s something to be said for waiting.

But being with Chloe has been so nice the past few days; Beca feels at ease around her, comfortable, cared for in a way she’s never felt from someone she’s only just begun to get to know. She feels safe.

It’s that thought that, as Chloe’s lips meet hers yet again, makes her hands slide down and over the curve of Chloe’s ass. It’s unfairly firm; that’s the first thing that flits through her mind followed by the sound Chloe makes and the way she smiles against Beca’s mouth.

Beca hums her inquiry and Chloe’s answer is another smile. 

“What?” Beca finally asks before kissing her again. Chloe shakes her head and uses the break to move her lips across Beca’s cheek. “Tell me,” Beca says with a firmer grasp. 

“You surprise me,” Chloe finally answers. And despite her tongue drawing a line along Beca’s jaw, Beca’s able to think.

“How?”

Chloe chuckles and her teeth nick Beca’s skin. “You seemed so...quiet.” Her lips pull unexpectedly at Beca’s skin and it starts a chain reaction.

Beca’s hands pull at Chloe.

Chloe’s hips meet hers and with them, Chloe’s thigh fits between Beca’s legs and her own fits between Chloe’s. She moans at the contact and hears Chloe hum next to her ear.

“See?”

“Whatever,” Beca says as her whole body rolls against Chloe in their new position. Her mind isn’t capable of witty banter at the moment and she’s not sure how Chloe’s is. Instead, she squeezes the curve beneath one hand as the other runs up Chloe’s back and into her hair to direct her into another kiss.

With the needy reconnection, she feels Chloe start to follow the slow, toe-curling pace Beca’s trying to set with the hand that rests over the rear pocket of the denim shorts Chloe changed into right in front of Beca at the station. Beca had thought it an unfair move at the time; officially off the clock, they’d started venturing into “maybe a little too flirtatious for still being in a work location” when Beca had pinched Chloe’s side teasingly and in retaliation, Chloe had smacked Beca squarely on the ass.

She’d yelped in indignation and Chloe had responded with a wink and, “Your ass looks amazing; I couldn’t help myself,” and from that point forward, it had been a race to get packed up and back to Chloe’s apartment. Beca was the slower of the two, but she blames that on Chloe’s finely honed skill of distraction because if she thought Beca’s ass looked amazing, she’d never seen her own.

She can vaguely remember Stacie making some type of a comment from the end of the row, but for the life of her, she can’t remember what it was.

“And I definitely thought you’d be more reserved.”

Beca’s reminded they’re having some form of a conversation despite the way Chloe’s thigh is pressing the thick, rough seam of Beca’s own denim shorts against her. She acknowledges Chloe’s thought with little more than a hum and uses more strength to try to keep Chloe’s lips on her own, but Chloe resists.

“But when you got on top of me last night…”

Beca opens her eyes at that to see Chloe staring down at her, dark eyes and flushed cheeks. She lifts her eyebrows to get Chloe to share the rest of her thought.

“God, that was _so_ hot.” Chloe practically groans the words before she rests more heavily against Beca as her tongue slips back into Beca’s mouth. Her hips start rolling to their own pace, not Beca’s, and this one is distinctly quicker.

Heat rushes through Beca. And desire. Need. “Fuck,” she breathes when they part for the briefest second for air before they’re kissing again. She lets her left leg, the one barely able to fit on the couch, fall so her foot’s flat on the ground. It gives both of them more space to move and with how amazing everything feels, she’s not sure if it’s a good or bad decision.

Because they are definitely on a path. Even if they don’t follow it to the very end, Beca’s pretty sure there will be some kind of ending regardless if the heat against her thigh, which she knows is from more than friction, and between her own is anything to judge by.

Chloe’s response to Beca’s vague comment of implied pleasure is to drop a hand from the back of Beca’s neck to her waist. Her shirt’s ridden up a bit with their activity and Beca feels where Chloe’s fingers touch her bare skin. They don’t linger, though. They skate up Beca’s side, over the thin material of Beca’s T-shirt, until they’re resting over the band of her bra. She feels Chloe’s thumb on her ribs; it’s tracing back and forth along the edge of underwire in a silent request for permission and Beca almost finds it laughable. But it’s sweet that Chloe wants to be sure Beca’s okay with something new even if they are already grinding against each other in mutual desire.

She manages an, “Mhm,” because yes. Yes, she absolutely wants Chloe’s hands on her in places lower than her shoulders.

Chloe’s hand slides up with her approval, over the soft curve of her breast until it’s holding it.

It makes Beca’s back arch and head spin and she breaks their endless kiss to pull Chloe to the side with the grip she has on her hair to get her mouth on Chloe’s neck. She tastes like the sea air and sunscreen and sweat and Beca’s filled with a kind of desperation she doesn’t remember feeling when in this position with another person. She can’t seem to get enough of Chloe; she’s not close enough no matter how Beca tries to pull her closer. As soon as she kisses one part of her neck, there’s another part that is shamefully neglected. And despite having a tank top and bra between them, Beca can feel the warmth of Chloe’s hand as it kneads her breast.

  
It makes her want to rip off those clothes and feel Chloe’s palm on her nipple instead of the dull, pleasing torment of what she has now. That thought, that mental picture, the imagined sensations which are amplified versions of reality make ecstasy threaten to overtake her and her hands fly to Chloe’s hips and push them back.

“Wait, wait, wait.” To Beca’s credit, she’s able to form words and to Chloe’s credit, every muscle in her body freezes.

It’s silent between them save for their labored breathing. When Beca finally opens her eyes she sees Chloe’s are still closed and there’s a faint line between her brows as though she’s concentrating and Beca can’t help but bring a hand up to touch it.

Beca’s so accustomed to the bright joviality omnipresent in Chloe’s eyes that the intense darkness she’s met with when they open at her touch is startling. She opens her mouth to explain but Chloe interrupts her with a shake of her head.

“It’s okay; you don’t have to apologize.”

“I wasn’t going to.” She runs her tongue over her lips, still tingling, and takes a deep, much-needed breath and flashes a smile that makes the intensity in Chloe’s eyes soften. “I just—um, was getting really—” She sighs and knows she’s blushing, but she’s already so heated she wonders if it’s even visible. “Close.”

“Oh.” Chloe’s lower lip gets snared between her teeth and Beca has to swallow; being so desired by someone as inherently perfect as this woman is still unexpected. “Me, too.”

Those words make Beca understand Chloe’s reaction to her own admission. She forgets how to breathe for a few seconds as she fights her body’s instinct which is to pull Chloe back down and finish what they started. As tempted as she is to dive right into sex on what amounts to their third non-date, she reminds herself that she doesn’t want to mess this up.

She can’t find the right words to respond to Chloe’s statement so instead, she nods and starts to sit up. Chloe notices and moves backward off her and it’s hard not to notice how turned on she still looks.

Beca imagines she probably looks much the same.

“We should probably get some actual work done so we don’t make fools of ourselves tomorrow.”

“Right, yeah.” Chloe appears shaken and Beca realizes the 180º topic change she’s pulled.

“Oh, wait, no. Sorry.” She takes a breath and tries to not let her bumbling idiocy be inadvertently hurtful. “About...that,” she gestures between them, “I just, you know—I really like you and I don’t want to mess anything up.” She surprises herself with her unexpected honesty, but her brain is still recovering. Chloe doesn’t immediately respond and panic and regret strike her like lightning. “I don’t mean I think that sleeping with you will fuck things up, I mean, it’s probably, like, amazing but, you know, we’re still getting to know each other and it would be nice for once to sleep with someone who I actually—” She cuts herself off.

“...Actually...?” Chloe nudges, wearing an amused smile.

Beca closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Could care about.”

“I told you: you’re cute when you’re nervous.” Lips peck hers and Beca starts from the unexpected touch. She opens her eyes and Chloe’s looking at her, waiting patiently. “I appreciate that, by the way.”

“You do?”

“I don’t want to mess anything up either. Not that I think sleeping with you could ever be a mistake,” she adds with a coy little smile.

Beca takes a deep breath and holds it for a second. “Cool,” she finally says, still processing everything of the last two minutes and also the last three days. “So, then, do you want to finish our prep for tomorrow?”

“Yeah! I just…” Chloe shifts and she seems uncharacteristically tense. “At the risk of TMI, I am seriously horny right now and I’m not saying that to try to talk you into anything, but I’m not going to be able to concentrate on anything unless I…” She kind of shrugs the conclusion of her statement and it takes Beca a minute to translate it.

“Oh!” She’s sure her face is as red as the matching bathing suits they wear daily. “Yeah, no, I totally get that.”

“I’m just going to...” She points down the hall toward what Beca can only assume is the bedroom and stands. “It’s not weird, right? Like, you can just wait here. It won’t take long.”

Beca tries to think about any time in her life where someone she’s gotten hot and heavy with had to step away to relieve their own tension while Beca waited in the next room. She can’t think of any time it would have, or even could have happened. “Uh, no.” She smiles and it feels comically awkward on her face but Chloe doesn’t seem to notice. “You do you, man.”

“This time, anyway,” Chloe says with a wink as she stoops and lifts Beca’s chin with a gentle touch for a kiss and Beca can’t help but whimper. “You can help yourself, too, while I’m gone, you know.”

Beca’s ears burn at the suggestion. “I’m good.”

The look Chloe gives her as she straightens says she doesn’t believe her. “I’ll text before I come back out, just in case.”

“Cool, yeah.” Beca watches Chloe leave and hears a door close. Realizing her phone is still in her purse which is on the floor in the middle of the room, she gets up to fetch it and sits back down in the middle of the warm couch with a huff.

It’s distracting how turned on she is.

And it’s not going away, not with knowing Chloe is down the hall touching herself right this very second all because she got so turned on with Beca.

She sets her phone aside and raps her fingers on her bare knees. It’s weird, she thinks, to even consider touching herself in someone else’s home. Not even in the privacy of a bathroom. Just out in the open. Where Chloe spends much of her free time. Where she hosts guests. Friends and maybe family.

She’s the kind of turned on that physically hurts. A dull ache that reminds her that her body is ready and waiting for someone to tend to its needs. She glances at their lesson plan binder sitting on the table right where it had been forgotten last night. It’s a weak attempt at distracting herself; she can’t even manage to sit forward and slide it over where she can read it.

Her phone hasn’t pinged with a text from Chloe yet which means she’s either still doing it or allowing Beca the courtesy of having enough time to herself and both of those thoughts only make it worse.

She has to close her eyes.

She can’t sit there on Chloe’s couch in Chloe’s apartment and look around and see all of Chloe’s belongings and her pictures of her and her friends and family and touch herself.

But maybe if she closes her eyes and just...doesn’t really pay attention to where her hand falls after she stretches her arms above her head.

The side of her thumb tilts to press the slightest bit between her legs and she stops.

It’s so wrong. And weird.

And...if she focuses, strains her ears, she imagines she can hear Chloe in the other room. Her mind builds the picture: Chloe, barely undressed lying on her bed. Hand between her legs. Breathing hard. Moaning as her hips move in the way Beca can still feel. In the way they moved when they were driving Beca closer and closer to a climax she hadn’t expected to receive tonight. Her teeth pulling at her bottom lip as blue eyes, dark with lust, look down at Beca as they rock together, grinding desperation as Beca’s hands slide under Chloe’s top and over bare breasts. Tongues twisting and lips pulling as Chloe’s hand abandons Beca’s breast to move over her stomach and down the front of her shorts, past her underwear, until her fingers are between Beca’s legs.

“God, you’re so wet,” she breathes against Beca’s mouth before claiming it again with her own. Fingers moving over her greedily, like she’s learning what Beca feels like as quickly as she can. Then they find her clit and Chloe’s touch is firm, purposeful. She’s not teasing. The pads of her fingertips work in circles and Beca’s legs fall open. Her hips tilt as she moans.

She’s not going to last long. Chloe’s touching her like she touches herself, with quick strokes and the right amount of pressure.

“Fuck,” she moans, grinding herself desperately against Chloe’s touch. “I’m gonna—”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence. Her body rocks into orgasm and she hears Chloe’s appreciative moans nearly drowning out her own.

When it passes, her eyes flutter open and she’s alone.

Still sitting on Chloe’s couch.

She yanks her hand out of her shorts and, embarrassed despite being given the invitation do exactly what she just did, gets up to use the restroom.

The thing she realizes halfway down the hall is that the restroom is across from Chloe’s bedroom, which still has its door closed. She slows her steps to not be heard and hovers.

It must have been her imagination earlier; all she hears is silence. Either Chloe is “finished” or she’s being too quiet to be heard. Both possibilities make her blood run cold as her body flushes with heat.

She should step into the restroom and close the door and give Chloe her due privacy.

For a second, she considers opening the bedroom door.

She’s pretty sure it would be okay if she did. They seem to be on the same page about what’s developing between them. And it’s an unbelievably sexy thought, Chloe writhing on her bed, touching herself to thoughts of Beca as Beca walks in. She doesn’t think Chloe would stop; with what she knows of Chloe thus far, she would probably hold out her free hand and beckon her to join. To take over the honorable duty of pleasuring her.

Instead, Beca spins and ducks into the bathroom to hide behind its door. She winces when it closes loudly and waits. She’s not really sure what it is she’s waiting for; she feels like she’s crossed a major line of appropriateness and shame and guilt is rising in her like the tide.

When she turns to hastily use the bathroom, she catches her reflection in the mirror. Her hair’s a mess, the low ponytail she’d worn out of the station half-loose and frizzed out thanks to Chloe’s hands and the couch. Her cheeks are pink and her lips are dark and she works on pushing away the shame of tending to her arousal by reminding herself why she was so aroused in the first place.

Chloe and her mouth and her hands and her hips and her thigh.

“Beca?”

She hears her in the hall; voice hesitant, and Beca realizes she left her phone in the other room so she couldn’t tell Chloe the coast is clear for her to return.

“Um, yeah, just in the bathroom,” she answers.

“Oh, okay!” Chloe sounds closer now, probably talking right against the door. “Do you want to borrow anything? I have lots of shorts. I don’t need them back or anything. Unless you don’t need—unless you’re fine? But I know you’re not fine.” She can hear the proud smirk in Chloe’s tone.

Beca lets her face fall to her hands and feels it burning; she knows what Chloe’s implying, and she’s not wrong. But it makes Beca think about all the times she’s thought about how it must suck to be a dude, to get turned on and have it be obvious regardless of how inconvenient or inappropriate it is and in comparison to that, the fact that the sexy, steamy make-out session with a super hot woman resulted in her underwear and shorts being soaked through is really not a big deal in comparison to the alternative.

So she sucks up her unnecessary humiliation. “Uh, yeah, thanks.”

“Cool! I’ll hang them on the doorknob; I’m going back to the couch. See you in a couple?”

“Sure, yeah.” Beca hears the rattle of the handle and then silence. She exhales and washes her hands, rinses her face to help cool down, and fixes her hair before opening the door a crack to reach and grab the loaned article of clothing.

Feeling foolish and feeling foolish for feeling foolish, her own clothes folded up to get stuffed into her bag in-hand, she makes her way back to the living room.

Chloe’s on the couch, the lesson binder in her lap and a highlighter bouncing in her fingers. She looks at up at Beca’s return. “Better?”

She’s still not sure she can address the events of the past several minutes with words yet so she offers a tight smile as she puts her shorts in her purse. Chloe’s bright-eyed and still a little rosy-cheeked Chloe doesn’t hesitate to lean over and kiss her as soon as she sits down.

It does wonders to help calm her nerves and get her out of her head. It’s like she read Beca’s mind the moment she returned and knows exactly what to do to unwind her. Again.

“That was fun,” Chloe says, lips still touching Beca’s. “And super sexy. Did you…?”

“Did I what?” Beca asks dumbly. Mostly, she just wants to hear Chloe say it.

There’s what sounds like a groan that lives and dies in Chloe’s throat and Beca sees her teeth catch her lower lip before she kisses her again. “I know you did; I heard you.”

But instead, Chloe doesn’t give her what she wants. At least, not what she thought she wanted. “Dude!” she says, fake-shocked (though maybe a little real-embarrassed). “You did not!”

“I totally did.” Chloe kisses her again.

"Shit," Beca whimpers against the kiss Chloe gives her again and then eases herself back and out of easy range. “If we don’t change the topic, I’m going to need to borrow another pair of shorts.”

Chloe gives her a cocky smirk but sits back. “I have plenty of shorts. But okay. In my defense, I can’t help it that you’re so irresistible.”

Beca clears her throat and grabs the binder from Chloe’s lap to try to hide the way that statement makes her feel. Buzzy. Fluttery. Swoony. “Ditto,” she says with a quick glance up before turning the page. “But let’s get ready for the pool tomorrow. I don’t want to look like an idiot in front of the new recruits.”

“You could never. Now, are you okay to take the position for circulation and demonstrate compressions?”

“Uhh…” Beca’s vision blurs for a second, the words and illustrations drifting in and out of focus at the thought of having to demonstrate chest compressions. Of the memory of the heaviness of the lifeless body she pulled from the water and the hollow feeling of his chest beneath her palms. “Um, would you—I’d rather airway and breathing?”

She thinks Chloe clocks her discomfort, but if she does, she doesn’t acknowledge it. “Totes! Maybe we can take turns.”

“Yeah.” She sniffs and blinks a few times to clear her vision. “Totes.”

* * *

“Goodnight, Bec,” Chloe says with a soft smile at her front door upon walking her out. “I’m looking forward to our first real lesson tomorrow. I think it’s going to be super fun.”

“Me, too.” Beca shifts her bag on her shoulder. 

“And you can keep the shorts.”

  
Beca squeaks when Chloe’s fingers slip into her waistband to snap it playfully. “Thanks.” She tries to put snark into it but she knows she fails when Chloe leans in to kiss her. She thinks it’s unfair someone’s kiss can affect her in so many ways. “Goodnight, Chlo.”

“Text me when you get home?”

Beca nods and she’s the one to lean in for one last peck before heading down the steps toward her car.

When she pulls out her phone as she’s walking in the door of her house to text Chloe, she sees the chain of unread messages from her earlier in the evening.

_"Omg Bec_

_That was amazing_

_You turn me on so much_

_I couldn’t stop imagining it was you_

_I hope you’re touching yourself right now_

_God I bet you feel so good_

_I hope I get to touch you someday_

_Soonish, maybe?_

_I don’t want to rush you!! I like that you want to go a little slow_

_Totally ok to wait_

_I can make out with you forever_

_Is the coast clear for me to come out?_

_Beca?_

_I’m gonna peek out cuz I think you’re in the bathroom now but I promise not to look-look if you’re not!!"_

She can’t stop the smile that makes itself at home and she’s pressing ‘send’ on her _“I’m home”_ text when Stacie, in all her observant glory, announces, “Those aren’t your shorts!”

“Hello to you, too,” Beca says with a roll of her eyes as she kicks off her slides and drops her bag by the door.

“What happened to the ones you were wearing when you and the ginger scampered out of the station falling over each other?” At least this time, Stacie doesn’t get off the couch to more closely inspect Beca with a teasing, yet accusatory eye.

“Dude, why are you still up? It’s almost 1:00.”

“You know I’m off tomorrow. And you’re the one rolling in after midnight—again—even though you do have to work tomorrow. You going to make me torture it out of you?”

“You don’t get to know every detail of my sex life,” she sighs and heads toward her bedroom at a speed she hopes outpaces Stacie’s inevitable advance.

“So you had sex?!” Stacie’s voice is already behind her in the hallway.

“We didn’t have sex,” Beca says with a groan.

“Then why are you wearing her clothes?”

“Because I spilled soy sauce on mine; you know I’m a clutz.” She makes it to her bedroom and tries to close the door but hears Stacie’s hand stop it, so she turns. “What?” She puts on a stern, irritated face but she could never _really_ be irritated with Stacie. Just mildly irritated.

“Is it because you creamed yourself again?”

“Jesus, Stacie!” She shoves at her door. “Don’t be gross. I’m tired; move so I can go to bed.”

“Tired because you had an earth-shattering orgasm?”

She shoves again and this time, Stacie relents. “GOODNIGHT.”

* * *

_**To be continued...** _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, my friends! Let's dive right in, shall we?

* * *

When Beca drags herself to the kitchen in the morning for much-needed coffee, she groans. “Why are you awake?”

“Good morning to you, too, sunshine.” Stacie smiles at her from the kitchen table, mug in one hand and phone in the other. “Forecast says it’s gonna be a hot one today.”

Beca grabs a travel mug from the cabinet and fills it with coffee and a couple tablespoons of sugar. “If that was an attempt at a joke, it was weak.”

“What? No; the high today is 97º. So glad I have the day off. Make sure you take a couple Powerades out with you.”

Beca lets down her guard. “Oh, thanks. I’m not on the beach today, though. Chloe and I are teaching at the pool.”

“How’s that going?” Stacie sets down her phone; Morning Stacie is always so much more innocent than Late Night Stacie. “You’re kind of adorable together.”

Beca hums over a sip of too-hot coffee while she joins Stacie at the table. “We’re, uh, taking it slow.”

Stacie chuckles. “Really? I’m not trying to be invasive—”

Beca throws her a look as she joins Stacie at the table.

“I’m not! But it’s only been a few days, right? Things seem to be moving kind of quickly for taking it slow, based on the state you’ve been coming home in every night.”

Beca draws a breath through her teeth. “Yeah. Well. We...well, we have, like, amazing chemistry? And it’s really hard to not—”

“Rail each other?”

She winces. “Too early for that.”

“Sorry.”

“I mean, I want to. And I know she wants to. But we talked about it and I really like her, Stace. Like, _really._ ” She ignores the sappy puppy eyes that fall on her at the admission and steals the uneaten slice of toast from Stacie’s plate. “And she likes me, too, and we don’t want sex to get in the way of getting to know each other better.”

“That’s cute. And I mean that.”

Beca rolls her eyes but it’s accompanied by a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway. It’s kind of nuts that I feel this way about someone I just met. Right?”

Stacie just shrugs and pushes her chair back from the table to stand. “When you know, you know. You’re not an idiot, so trust your gut.”

“I guess.”

“Don’t doubt yourself.” Stacie’s hand ruffles Beca’s hair as she departs. “And don’t screw in the pool; I have to get recertified in a couple of weeks and don’t want to be swimming in your lady juices.”

“Can we have _one_ conversation where you don’t bring attention to my bodily fluids?” Beca tosses over her shoulder.

“Only if you agree to never use the words ‘bodily fluids’ again.”

* * *

“Good morning, Miss Mitchell.” The words are warm on Beca’s ear and she’s shivering before the arm slipping around her waist even finishes tugging her backward into a close embrace. It sends a thrill through her and she leans against the warm body behind her. It’s amazing what Chloe’s mere proximity can do to her.

“Why am I Miss Mitchell today?” she asks with a smile as she twists her neck to try to see her but she’s little more than a blur at such close range.

“Because you’re a sexy teacher today, duh,” Chloe responds, more loudly than Beca would have preferred, before placing a smacking kiss against her cheek and releasing her.

“Does the stench of chlorine and a YMCA locker room turn you on or something?” She winks at Chloe as she says it and pulls on a pair of red county-issued board shorts over her one-piece. Most days, she favored the tankini, but something about wearing it, despite being a sanctioned uniform, to teach a new crop of recruits, many of whom will be barely legal young people, seemed inappropriate. 

She’s unsurprised that Chloe’s in her usual two-piece, though she’s opted for shorts, too. “Can’t say they do,” Chloe says as she takes a seat on the bench. “So, how are you?”

“Good. Kinda nervous? Is that dumb?”

“Why would that be dumb?”

Beca’s hands slow down as she loops her whistle around her neck. “I guess when you put it that way…”

“Exactly: not dumb. And any time I see you in the field, you’re a natural. I’m sure you’ll be aqua-awesome out there today, too.”

“Aqua-what?”

“Aqua-awesome! It means extra awesome.”

Beca has half a mind to tell Chloe to dial down the enthusiasm—it’s just basic instruction—but something tells her doing so would feel like clipping a butterfly’s wings. “Nerd,” she says instead and drapes a towel around her shoulders to take with her poolside. “Ready?”

“No.” Chloe’s answer surprises her but then she finds herself tugged at to sit on the bench next to her and right into a kiss.

It’s sweet and gentle and Chloe smells like grapefruit. It’s the first time, Beca realizes, she’s been this close to Chloe before spending a day on the sand. That this is what Chloe must smell like on her days off, not the beach scents of sunblock and saltwater.

“Better?” Chloe asks when they part and for the life of her, Beca can’t figure out what was ailing her to begin with that she should now be better.

“Can I take you out?” she says instead of answering.

There’s amusement playing at Chloe’s lips. “On a date?”

“Yeah. Like, it would be nice to spend time together when we’re not both gross from being outside all day.”

“You think I’m gross?”

“What? No! No, dude, of course, I—” A finger to her lips shuts her up.

“I know you don’t think I’m gross,” Chloe smiles. “I was teasing. I’d love to.”

Beca exhales. “Cool. Um, how’s tomorrow?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Okay. I’ll text you later with a time? I have to figure out what we’re going to do.”

“Well, I’m down for anything.” Chloe kisses her after she says it and Beca wonders if the double entendre she interprets is intentional. “Let’s go show the kids how it’s done, yeah?”

“Hell yeah!” 

* * *

Beca’s burst of confidence fizzles once she’s standing in front of a group of trainees even though she’s the one with the whistle and clipboard. She’s grateful for Chloe and her boundless energy as she leads the majority of the lesson, far more than they’d outlined, as they work together to demonstrate the basics of a two-person assist rescue and then guide the trainees through it.

But by the end of the lesson, Beca’s found her stride and it’s she who sends the recruits into the pool for laps with a tweet of her whistle.

“I think that went pretty well,” she says as they walk back to the locker room trailing the class. 

Chloe hip-checks her playfully. “Yeah, it went great!”

“Thanks for stepping up more than you had to, by the way. I appreciate it.”

“So totally not a big deal.”

“I’ll do my part next time; promise.”

“I know you will. But even if you don’t, it’s fine.” Chloe smiles at her as she says it and Beca feels it again, the warm, fluttering kind of thing in her chest and stomach that makes her feel cared for, protected. “Come shower with me.”

The words take Beca by surprise and she gapes. “Here?!”

Chloe turns around because Beca’s stopped in her tracks. “Don’t you want to rinse the chlorine out of your hair?” She’s trying not to smile as she says it and Beca’s mind catches up to her, switching lanes from feeling fluttery over Chloe to wrapping up a day spent in a pool.

“Oh, right. Yeah.”

“Do you really think the first time we shower-shower together would be at a public pool? What do you take me for?”

Beca can’t help but roll her eyes and she knows she’s blushing. “Yeah, no, sorry, that’s not what I—”

Her mind catches up with her again, rebuilding Chloe’s sentence and the fact that Chloe stated future communal bathing, not as a theoretical possibility but inevitable fact and she forgets how she was supposed to finish her sentence.

Thankfully, Chloe takes her hand and gets them moving again toward the showers. “Come on; you can picture me naked while we rinse off; I don’t mind.”

“I’m not going to picture you naked,” Beca blurts but all she gets is a backward glance over Chloe’s shoulder that tells her Chloe knows better than that.

“That makes one of us.”

The harsh, ice-cold spray of the pool shower is more than welcome.

* * *

Beca’s staring at the ceiling from the couch she was able to claim in Stacie’s absence when the front door opens and closes.

“Don’t worry; the pool is still safe,” she says preemptively.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” She hears Stacie taking off her shoes and hanging up her keys.

“Dare I ask why?”

“Because I walked in and saw you sulking on the couch.” Her voice is much closer and Beca slides her gaze down toward her feet where Stacie’s standing at the end of the couch. “What happened?”

“I’m not sulking.”

“You kind of look like you’re sulking.”

Beca sighs. “I asked Chloe on a date.”

“And...she said no?”

“She said yes.”

“So why are you sulking?”

“I’m not sulking; I’m thinking.”

“Stop the presses,” Stacie laughs and Beca flips her off in response.

“I was trying to figure out where to take her tomorrow and I realized that I know almost nothing about her.”

Stacie drops herself into the recliner and kicks it back. “You mean to tell me all the time you’ve spent together this week, you’ve been too busy feeling each other up to actually talk?”

“We talk!” Beca says on reflex. “But it’s not my fault we’re like, super attracted to each other and end up not talking very much.”

“I’m glad you’re getting some, believe me. You’re so much easier to live with when you’re getting your rocks off regularly—” Beca grimaces “—and it’s been way too long. I don’t want you to do something dumb to mess up your chances with this girl, so let’s figure out how to sweep her off her feet.”

Stacie’s contribution to the conversation is an unexpectedly welcome one. “Okay, yeah.”

“What do you know about her so far?”

“She grew up on the beach.”

“And she works on the beach; don’t take her to the beach.”

“She loves the beach.”

“Maybe take her to the beach.”

Beca laughs. “So helpful.”

“No, I’m serious.” Stacie flips the leg rest on her chair down to sit forward. “She loves the beach and you know your way around our stretch of the coast, where all the quiet, private spots are.”

“I think we both kind of wanted to get away from work.”

“See how well you get along outside of your comfort zone; I get it. Why don’t you just go the traditional route? Take her to dinner.”

“I don’t want her to think I’m boring.”

“Movie?”

“Did you not hear what I just said?”

“The opera.”

“Dude.”

“A concert?”

That suggestion makes Beca think for a few seconds. “Not for a first date; I want us to be able to talk to each other. But that’s a good idea for next time. Shit, I hope there’s a next time.”

“Just show her a good time. She already likes you. Don’t try too hard or say something offensive and you’ll be golden.”

“A good time…” Beca thinks and then grabs her phone to Google something.

“You figure it out?”

“I think so.” She texts Chloe next.

_“7:30 pm? Dress casual. I’ll pick you up.”_

Chloe’s reply is instantaneous. _“Can’t wait!”_

* * *

As Beca waits at Chloe’s apartment door, she realizes she should have brought flowers or maybe a bottle of wine as a gift, but if Chloe’s disappointed that Beca came empty-handed, she doesn’t show it. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. She’s beaming when she opens the door and Beca almost loses her balance when she’s pulled right into a kiss.

“Hi,” Chloe says after a few breathtaking seconds.

“Hey.” Beca releases the grip she has on Chloe’s shirt. “You know, normally the kiss happens at the _end_ of the date.”

“Oh, would you rather wait?”

“No, I didn’t mean—”

“Nope, we’re waiting to ‘til the end. So, am I the right kind of casual?” Chloe gestures at herself and the white denim shorts and blue and white striped button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and what could be brand-new white Keds. Her hair is in loose, smooth waves, a far cry from how Beca’s used to seeing it: frizzy from humidity and tied back in some way. She thinks both styles are stunning.

“Um, yeah, you look...cute.” Beca winces as soon as she says it; “cute” isn’t a very romantic thing to call someone. But instead of being offended, Chloe kind of bounces in place. “You should bring some taller socks, though.”

That earns her a curious look. “Socks?”

“Don’t ask questions.”

“Okay,” Chloe laughs. “One sec.” She turns and disappears into her apartment and Beca waits. She’s nervous and hates herself for it. She doesn’t have time to slip into a world of second-guessing herself because Chloe’s only gone a matter of a few seconds, returning with a rolled-up pair of socks in her hand to show Beca before stuffing them into her purse. “Ready.”

“Cool.” Beca steps aside to let Chloe walk ahead but instead, Chloe takes Beca’s hand and pulls her along to walk down the stairs and to Beca’s car side by side.

“You look cute, too, you know,” Chloe says as she waits for Beca to unlock her door. The activity gives Beca the precious couple seconds to not respond like a fumbling idiot once they’re both sitting in Beca’s dark silver Mini Cooper Convertible (the top is up tonight; she didn’t want to look all windblown upon her arrival). She’d bought it at an impound auction last year for a crazy low price, but no one needed to know that.

“Uh, thanks,” she replies as she starts the car and eases into traffic toward their destination. She’d agonized over what to wear and had left the house feeling like she’d made terrible choices in her navy blue tank top and denim cut-offs but Stacie had insisted both articles of clothing showed off all her curves in all the right ways and that she was not at all underdressed for what she had planned.

“So, are you going to tell me what we’re doing?”

“No.”

She hears Chloe make a pouty noise and glances at her to see she’s very much watching Beca. “Not even a hint?”

“Nope.”

“Fine,” Chloe says with a dramatic huff and a few seconds of silence tick by before Beca hears her singing along quietly to the radio. She’s not sure why she’s surprised Chloe has a nice voice; to-date, she seems to be good at everything she does.

“You know this song?” Beca asks as she clicks up the volume a few times, not because she doesn’t want to hear Chloe sing but because Chloe likes the song.

“Why would I not know this song?” 

“I meant that you know the words.”

“Oh, totes! _Baby, you're a perfect ten, I wanna get in, can I get down so I can win._ ”

Chloe’s voice singing one of Beca’s favorite songs, a song that may or may not be on several of her playlists including a few compiled with bedroom activities in mind, makes Beca squirm in her seat.

“ _I like the way you work it,_ ” she sings, joining Chloe, and she glances at her knowingly when she hears her gasp. Beca’s a humble person and would never brag about anything beyond her ability to put together the perfect playlist for any situation, but she knows she has a decent voice and isn’t embarrassed when she chooses to sing in front of other people.

“ _No diggity,_ ” they sing together. In fact, they sing the rest of the song together, finding natural splits in who’s taking which line or sharing verses and splitting melodies into harmonies through not just the one song but the four it takes them to get to their destination.

* * *

“Wait, are you serious?” Chloe asks as she stares at the building a few rows of cars away across the parking lot.

Her awe is hard to read. Is she happy? Disappointed? “Yeah. Is that...is this okay?”

Chloe’s answer is to squeal and she leans across the console to kiss Beca’s cheek before scrambling to get out of the car.

“I guess that’s a yes,” Beca says proudly to herself as she grabs her purse to catch up with Chloe who seems barely able to refrain from sprinting across the lot. As soon as she does, Chloe’s hand is in hers again and Beca has to hustle to keep up with her.

“An eight, please,” Chloe says, still almost vibrating with excitement as they wait at the counter, a wall of cubbies filled with roller skates staring back at them.

A disinterested teenager looks at Beca to wait for her request before fulfilling Chloe’s. “Uh, seven, please.”

His moody attitude goes unnoticed by Chloe as he drops the rented skates on the counter and punches buttons on the screen of the cash register, which Beca pays for before Chloe can try to suggest they split it.

They find an empty bench to sit on and Chloe makes such quick work of trading her low-tops for her packed socks and roller skates that Beca’s still fighting with her second skate’s laces by the time she’s finished.

“What’s wrong?” Chloe asks, her feet rolling back and forth while she sits as if testing their rolly-ness.

“The laces are all messed up,” she grumps, starting to get more frustrated by the second now that Chloe’s waiting and watching her. “How does this even happen?”

“Oh! I gotchu,” Chloe says as she stands—now several inches taller—turns with what Beca feels is an unfair amount of grace for someone on roller skates, and kneels at Beca’s feet to unlace the uneven weaving with deft fingers and redo it correctly. “There,” she says proudly as she uses Beca’s knees for leverage to get back to her feet. “It’s not too tight?”

Beca rocks her foot side to side. “No, it’s good.”

“Awes.” She holds out her hands for Beca to take and help Beca to her feet. The wheels let Chloe pull Beca right into her and for a moment, Beca’s sure Chloe is going to kiss her until Chloe’s rolling backward. “Should we get a locker for our stuff?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, let me just…” Beca fishes out a pair of quarters from her wallet before stuffing her bag and Converse into the metal cubby Chloe’s holding open for her, Chloe’s purse and shoes already tucked into the back of it. Beca drops the coins into the slot and Chloe takes the key to wear it around her wrist as a bracelet.

“So, on a scale of one to ten,” Chloe asks as they pick their way through the obstacle course of benches, shoes, and people toward the rink, “how much roller skating experience do you have?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I need to know how fast or slow I should go.”

“Is that your way of telling me you’re an experienced roller skater?”

Chloe shrugs. “I don’t like to brag, but…”

“Uh-huh,” Beca smiles. “I’ll give myself a six because I can go backward, too. What about you?”

“I’ll let you rank me later,” Chloe says with a wink as they roll to a stop at the entrance to the rink. It’s busy, but it’s an adults-only skate so for the most part, it’s orderly. “Ready?”

“After you,” Beca gestures and watches Chloe step onto the rink and immediately turn to skate backward with an expectant smile.

Beca rolls her eyes at her display and follows. She hasn’t been on roller skates in a few years, but she’s only unsure for a few strides until she’s caught up with Chloe who turns to face forward and skate next to Beca.

The music is loud and, so far, Beca’s approved of the DJ’s throwback choices. It’s a little too intrusive to carry on a lengthy conversation as they roll at a leisurely pace around the oval rink and allow speed skaters to pass them. But Beca doesn’t mind; it’s nice to be with Chloe in a new environment, one that doesn’t feel like conversation must continue lest awkward silence ensue. It’s low-pressure and there’s so much happening around them that if it does start to feel too quiet between them, it’s easy to quip, “Dude, that guy just ate it so hard!” or, “This remix is amazing!” 

She decides it must be 80s night based on the music; it’s all of the top songs of the decade and Chloe starts singing along to Rick Springfield’s “Jessie’s Girl.”

“I always wanted to meet a girl who was dating a Jessie so I could listen to this song while I pined for her,” Chloe says with a laugh as they skate.

Beca looks at her as long as she dares to not trip over her own feet. “I don’t make it a habit to talk about exes on dates, but...my last boyfriend’s name was Jesse.”

Chloe squeals and spins (impressively) in place to skate backward next to Beca. “I am going to cling to that. Thank you.”

“Any time,” Beca laughs. “Curve is coming,” she says with a nod ahead and Chloe twirls back to face forward again.

“All right, all you sexy people,” the DJ’s voice crackles over the PA system. “Find your lover, your partner, your main squeeze, your sweetheart and hit the brakes because it’s time for sloooooooow skate.”

His voice fades into the opening bars of Breathe’s “Hands to Heaven” and Beca has a solid five seconds of panic as she watches several skaters leave the rink and those remaining link up into hand-holding pairs. She always hated slow skate as a teenager; she never had anyone to skate with, and she remembers that shame vividly.

Chloe’s hand slipping into hers, however, brushes those feelings aside to be replaced with feelings of a very different kind as the lights dim and the disco ball floods the room with stars.

“I haven’t heard this song in forever,” Chloe says and Beca hears her singing along to herself to the slow chorus.

“Me, neither.” Beca chooses to enjoy the quiet moment rather than engage a conversation, despite the change of pace providing a better environment for one. She feels like they’re communicating despite not speaking now that they’re holding hands.

The thought makes her feel cheesy, but given the fact that she’s slow skating in the dark under a disco ball to an 80s love song holding the hand of a girl who, she dares allow herself to think after such a short time together, could be _important_ in Beca’s life. 

The song mixes into “Drive” by The Cars and Beca makes a mental note to do something with both of the songs; maybe a playlist for Chloe.

“Oh no, this song always makes me cry.” Chloe’s voice is already tight and Beca second-guesses her plan.

She squeezes Chloe’s hand. “Why?”

“He just loves the girl in the song so much and wants to make sure she’s happy but feels helpless.”

“You don’t think he decides to do something about it by the end of the song?”

Chloe just shrugs and Beca watches her push away an escaped tear.

“Well,” Beca continues, “if I felt that way about someone, I wouldn’t sit back and let them slip away.”

“No?”

Beca shakes her head and realizes how honest she just was—how she maybe showed her hand a little too early.

But Chloe just swings that hand between them as though reminding her that Chloe isn’t going anywhere and, fueled by an unexpected rush of emotions, takes a quick stride to get just far enough ahead of Chloe to turn and skate backward so they can face each other. She trusts Chloe to not let her run into anyone. She trusts Chloe to not let her run into the curved wall at the end of the rink, too, but the artistic designs painted along the wall tells Beca they should be turning and she’s about to when Chloe’s hands move to her hips and she drives them straight into the wall.

There’s a sting in Beca’s lower back where it connects with the ledge from their momentum but it’s erased by Chloe’s lips on hers. She’s grateful Chloe has her pinned; the wheels on her feet lend themselves nicely to sending her to the floor if her knees were to give out.

It also allows Beca to slip her arms over Chloe’s shoulders as she returns the kiss, a relatively PG-rated trading of kisses until need gets the better of Beca’s sense of public decency and she slips her tongue past Chloe’s lips and feels more than hears the satisfied sound Chloe makes in response.

She can’t quite believe she’s making out on a roller rink under a disco ball while “Rush Rush” starts to play; her adolescent self would never believe it.

There’s something different about kissing Chloe this time. It’s missing the urgency of their previous deep kisses, but not in a way Beca finds disappointing. They aren’t pawing at each other, stumbling through a room in desperation to reach the line they have yet to cross. It’s reassuring. It tells her that they do want each other, crave each other, but both are content to wait, to have more, do more than That One Thing.

She has to stop thinking about it because the more she thinks about how amazing it is to kiss Chloe without the pressure of having to make a decision or convincing herself to stop, the more she wants to get herself into the position of having to make that decision and it’s making it difficult to keep her feet under herself, especially on roller skates.

“The two lovebirds on the south rail need to wrap it up or take it off the rink.” The DJ’s voice floats through the song. “Your affection is a road hazard.” 

“I think he means us,” Chloe says against Beca’s lips and she can feel Chloe’s smile.

“What happened to waiting until the end of our date?”

“Are you really complaining?” Chloe starts to lean in again but then pulls back before their lips touch.

Beca lets herself whine because she is genuinely upset the moment’s over.

“Don’t worry,” Chloe says before pecking her lips again and using her hold on Beca’s hips to roll herself back, “there’s plenty more where that came from.” She winks after she says it and turns to skate away.

She wants Beca to follow her. Chase her. It’s not an outlandish concept, and the 90s jam that mixes in to signal the end of slow skate and the beginning of a jam skate has the perfect beat for her to push off the wall and catch up to Chloe who’s already halfway around the rink.

Chloe doesn’t see her coming and yelps when Beca grabs her waist.

“Come on, I’m hungry,” Beca says, directing both of them toward one of the floor’s exits.

It’s a semi-awkward shuffle of a skate once they’re off the rink and back on the main floor. They have to weave around skaters and non-skaters, tables, and shoes whose owners didn’t care to tuck into lockers, bags, or even under a bench. Beca spots an empty booth and leads them to it.

“Save our table? I’ll go order for us if you tell me what you want.”

“I don’t know what they have,” Chloe says with a smile.

“Oh! Uh, pizza and burgers and stuff. Do you want to go look? I can wait here so we don’t lose the table.”

“Surprise me,” Chloe says as she scoots into the booth. “Just nothing with onions.”

“Don’t like them?”

“Don’t want to smell like them when we’re making out later.” She says it so simply she could have been talking about going to the grocery store.

It makes Beca swallow thickly and she can feel her cheeks burning. “Um, cool, yeah. Oh, beverage preference?”

“Root beer.”

Beca jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “They have a full bar.”

Chloe just smiles. “I know.”

“Root beer it is,” Beca says with a nod before she turns to skate through the seating area toward the food counter.

Chloe’s put the fate of her next meal in Beca’s hands and while Chloe seemed unbothered by the lack of certainty, Beca’s all the more nervous to make a good choice as she stares at the brightly lit menu above the counter, its list built out of uneven rows of red and blue letters and upside down W’s used where M’s should be.

She decides and orders and waits the few short minutes until two red plastic baskets slide across the counter toward her. It takes her two trips, once with the food and again for the drinks.

“I could have helped you,” Chloe says as she accepts the unbranded cup of fountain root beer.

Beca dismisses the need with a wave of her hand and eases into the booth, somewhat tricky with wheels strapped to her feet. They take turns passing packets of condiments back and forth (sparking a brief debate over the fact that Chloe likes _mayonnaise_ on her _fries?!_ ) until they’re settled into their fried delicacies. 

“Did you always want to be a vet?” Beca asks. For as much time they’ve spent together over the past week, they’ve reserved very little of it for actually getting to know each other beyond 1) lifeguarding and 2) kissing. Beca did manage to figure out in that time that Chloe’s time as a receptionist at the clinic was to help her upcoming applications for veterinary school.

Chloe nods as she finishes her bite of hamburger. “Yeah. Well, mostly,” she amends. “When I was a kid, I wanted to be a pop star.”

Beca smiles. “You have a good voice. You never tried?”

Chloe kind of shrugs and Beca wonders if there are sad memories tied up in that career goal. “Aubrey and I both did. We were in an a cappella group together in college. The SoCal VoCals?”

Beca’s never heard of them. “Like, competitive?”

“Yeah.” She starts smiling. “We were really good. We were actually on the first season of ‘The Sing-Off’ on TV.”

“You were on a reality show?!” Beca gapes; she’s a reality show junky (not that she’d readily admit that).

Chloe laughs. “Yeah. It was just for a cappella groups.”

“Did you win?”

“No, but we did make it to the quarter-finals.”

“That’s awesome, dude,” Beca says with a grin. “You didn’t shoot to superstardom after that?”

“Can you believe we didn’t?” Chloe says with another laugh. “It was fun, though. But it did open my eyes to what working in that industry could be like. There were so many pretentious, fake people to deal with, just with our little show. I need authenticity. I like real people, you know?” She points at Beca with a French fry and winks and it makes Beca all fluttery inside. “But I’ve always loved animals. My mom used to call me Doctor Doolittle when I was a kid because animals weren’t afraid of me and I wasn’t afraid of them. I’ll have to show you this picture I have of me holding a scorpion when I was eight. It crawled onto my knee when I was sitting on the front steps of my house. He chilled with me for a good hour listening to me talk about ‘The Powerpuff Girls’ until my mom came outside. She panicked and made me put him back on the ground but not before she took a picture.”

The very thought makes Beca shudder. “And you never got stung?”

“Nope,” Chloe says happily. “I’m pretty sure my mom killed him when she sent me into the house, though.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Chloe giggles, eyes brighter than Beca ever remembers seeing them. “It’s not the best to have scorpions creeping around your house, especially when you have kids. I don’t blame her.”

“Scorpions love you; I see why veterinary medicine is a good fit.”

“That, and animals don’t lie. They’re the most authentic of all. If they’re mad, they tell you. Or hungry, or happy. They don’t always say ‘thank you’ when you help them, but I like to help for the sake of helping, not because I need the acknowledgment. But a little girl hugging your leg and crying thanking you for saving her cat is a pretty great anyway.”

“You’ve saved a cat?”

“Oh, no,” Chloe waves her hand. “But she didn’t know the difference. I don’t know why that would be impressive anyway; you saved a person. At least two, actually, that I know of. You still owe me that story, by the way.”

It all flashes through Beca’s memory, an unexpected, jarring recollection and she almost knocks over her drink when she reaches for it. “Uh, he survived.”

“That’s it? No gory details?”

Beca frowns and stares at her food.

“Oh, no, that wasn’t okay to say. I’m sorry,” Chloe rushes. “You don’t have to tell me. I didn’t realize—I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Beca clears her throat and tries to find the easiest path through the story. “He was seventeen. Dove off the jetty, the one between our towers. He was unconscious.”

“His neck?” Chloe asks quietly.

“Sprained, I found out later. We gave him CPR for...five minutes? Seemed like forever until the paramedics came. I broke his sternum.” Her hands clench as the memory of what that felt and sound like nauseates her for a moment.

“But you saved his life,” Chloe says quietly. When Beca looks up she can see Chloe’s processing what she’s shared. She reaches across the table to rest her hand over Beca’s forearm and her thumb brushes back and forth. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

Beca exhales shakily and tries to cover it by shoving a trio of fries in her mouth. “Change the subject,” she says, mouth full, and Chloe smiles.

“Did you always want to be a lifeguard?”

Beca throws a fry across the table but her terrible aim and Chloe ducking results in it smacking the booth near her shoulder and falling to the seat to get brushed to the floor. “Oh, yeah. Dream job.”

“Then tell me what it really is.”

* * *

“So…” Beca edges as they wait to be able to cross the busy through-lane of the parking lot, “who’s going to drive you home tonight?” She knows that song and its words are about a lot more than driving someone to their house, but...she kind of wants Chloe to know she knows that.

“Did you just quote that song’s lyrics to me?” She hears the amusement in Chloe’s voice.

Beca glances at her and reaches to take her hand before they both step onto the parking lot toward Beca’s car. “Yes.”

“Well, I sure hope you’re going to drive me home tonight. I don’t really feel like walking.”

“I suppose I can give you a lift.”

“Good, because I’m not ready for this date to be over yet.” Chloe’s tone is more than suggestive and her shoulder brushes Beca’s just before they split to get into Beca’s car. Beca has to take a second to compose herself before popping open her door.

The drive back to Chloe’s place is somewhat quiet; Chloe apologizes for being rude and spends a good bit of it checking things on her phone with the explanation that she’d rather not be distracted for the rest of the night. It adds to the already-layered tension that’s been swirling around them since Beca picked up Chloe earlier in the evening. Beca makes it a point to surreptitiously wipe her sweating palms on the legs of her shorts before they get too close to Chloe’s home.

She parks on the street outside Chloe’s building. “I had a lot of fun tonight,” she says when it’s quiet for a second too long with a quick glance at Chloe. It’s the most generic end-of-date line she could have said and regrets the choice immediately.

“Me, too.” She can feel Chloe’s eyes on her. “Beca.”

A shiver runs up the back of Beca’s neck at her tone. “Hmm?”

Chloe’s hand enters her periphery and Beca watches it turn back the key in her ignition to kill the engine. “Come inside?”

The heat that starts flowing Beca is only fanned by Chloe’s proximity; she’s leaning across the console into Beca’s personal space and she can feel how close she is. “Please?” Beca feels lips graze her cheek. “If you want to,” she adds.

Beca thinks she answers, that she says something, but everything feels foggy. Her car keys are in one hand and Chloe’s hand is in her other and her feet are climbing stairs behind Chloe’s so she must have given some kind of response. Or not. Maybe she said nothing and just got out of the car.

Regardless, Chloe’s unlocking her front door and locking it behind Beca.

Beca fully expects to be pressed up against the door, to be pinned there and kissed with the needy kind of passion she’s feeling for Chloe right now but instead, Chloe drops her hand and offers her a soft smile before turning to walk toward the kitchen.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asks once she’s there and Beca watches her retrieve a pair of glass tumblers from a cabinet.

“Uh…” Beca realizes she’s still standing at the front door and takes a few steps forward but stops, unsure where she should go. One thing she is sure of is that she feels out-of-sorts; being with Chloe has, thus far, been easy—low stress, no expectations, and gut instinct driven by how attractive Beca finds Chloe. In more ways than one.

Tonight, there’s an expectation. Or maybe an implication. ‘An invitation’ is what Beca settles on. There’s an unspoken invitation on the table and Beca knows it's hers to accept or take a raincheck.

“Yes or no?” Chloe asks and Beca blinks out of her thoughts. Chloe’s still in the kitchen, glasses on the counter, and she’s holding a bottle of bourbon.

“Sure, yeah.”

“Water? Rocks? Neat?” Chloe smiles at her in a way that tells Beca she’s a source of amusement for Chloe and that makes her equal parts self-conscious and warm.

“On the rocks, please.” She watches Chloe dig ice cubes from the freezer for both of them and pour a couple fingers’ worth of bourbon into the glasses. All of it feels exceedingly sensual: the ice against the glass, the splash of the liquor, the solid sound of the bottle returning to its place at the back of the counter, the way Chloe looks at Beca as she crosses to her, the glasses in hand, to offer one to her.

“Cheers,” Chloe says as she lifts her glass.

“Yeah, cheers,” Beca replies as she taps her glass to Chloe’s.

“You know nothing needs to happen tonight, right?” Chloe asks after they sip. She gestures toward the couch as an offer to sit and she’s turning to move to it when Beca’s hand catches her wrist. 

She doesn’t recall deciding to do that, to reach out and stop Chloe. But her hand encircles Chloe’s wrist and Chloe’s eyes meet hers in question. 

“I—“ Beca stops to wet her lips and swallow. “I’ve never seen your bedroom.” She feels like she’s on some kind of autopilot, aware of what she’s doing without any conscious thought.

Chloe’s eyes seem to darken. “Oh. Would you like to?”

“Yeah, I—” She stops herself before she says she ‘thinks so.’ “Yes.”

“Then I’ll show you,” Chloe says as she changes direction and rearranges their hands so their fingers are intertwined. “It’s just down the hall.” She leads and Beca follows, but Beca has the distinct feeling she’s the one in the driver’s seat, not Chloe.

She follows and takes a longer, less polite drink while Chloe’s back is to her. One drink won’t cloud her judgment, but it will help ease her nerves. 

Not that clouded judgment matters, she muses. Her subconscious is taking care of her. She’s known what she wants. And wanting to wait was one thing she wanted, but there’s one thing she wants more.

Chloe leads her through the doorway and, Beca notices, doesn’t turn on the light. She leads Beca to the far side of the queen-sized bed, Chloe’s usual side, she presumes, based on the items on the adjacent nightstand. One of the items is a small table lamp and Chloe reaches under the shade to turn it on, then clicks it twice to a dimmer brightness.

The bedspread, Beca notices, is not black as she initially thought but rather the color of chocolate, or coffee. The pillows resting on it are dressed in lavender. It reminds Beca of nature and it seems fitting; Chloe seems like someone who would feel connected to Mother Earth.

The sound of Chloe’s glass setting down on the bedside table draws her out of her thoughts and Beca notices it’s empty. She doesn’t know when Chloe finished it but she decides to do the same and lets Chloe take her empty glass to set it with hers.

Beca doesn’t realize they’re still standing until Chloe sits on the edge of the bed and gives Beca’s hand a tug. Beca sits, too, and her eyes drift to their joined hands and the way Chloe’s fingers are playing with her own.

“Nervous?” Chloe asks, voice almost a whisper. 

Beca half-shrugs. “Maybe? I don’t want to mess this up.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Chloe’s eyes are roaming like she’s doing a quick study of every feature on Beca’s face until her hand comes up to move Beca’s hair off her left shoulder in what feels like a precursory action. “But, for what it’s worth, I’m nervous, too.” Chloe offers a gentle smile with the sentiment. “We don’t have to do anything. I’d be just as happy to spend the night with you watching movies.”

Chloe’s reassurance that she would harbor no ill will should Beca want to do just that seems to strike a chord in Beca, one that was only being toyed with a bit thus far. “I don’t want to watch movies.”

Chloe’s gentle smile curves a little more on one side. “Then what would you like to do?” She glances at Beca’s lips and that’s all the more prompting Beca needs.

She leans in and captures Chloe’s lips with her own. She can feel Chloe smile and she offers a quick one in return before bringing her hand up to frame Chloe’s face as she kisses her again. They’ve only done this a handful of times and somehow it feels like they’ve been doing it forever, yet still feels brand-new. Chloe’s lips are soft and warm and press insistently at Beca’s until they part so Chloe’s tongue can slip over Beca’s.

It also feels different this time; they’re not on Chloe’s couch distracting themselves from working. They’re on Chloe’s bed in near darkness after a date that Beca is confident in ranking as her Best Date Ever. There’s nothing else they’re supposed to be doing. They don’t even have to be up early to go to work. She’ll have to answer to Stacie whenever she does get home, but that’s the least of her concerns tonight.

Right now, her only concern is the ache in the middle of her back from twisting for their kiss.

“Can we lie down?” she asks after one more firm kiss.

“We can do anything you want,” Chloe says hotly and Beca’s sure Chloe’s about to kiss her again but instead she moves backward until she’s lying on the far side of the bed, head on a pillow, and watching Beca.

Beca turns and follows, making it a point to toe-off her shoes that she failed to leave at the front door.

She knows Chloe’s expecting Beca to lie down next to her; it’s why she moved all the way to the other side. It kind of makes Beca melt inside to know that Chloe is continually showing Beca that she’s okay with whatever it is Beca wants or needs, even if that need is to wait.

It only reassures Beca of her decision.

She stops in the middle of the bed on her knees and sits back. “I’ll fall off the bed we’re that close to the edge.”

Chloe looks at her with such amusement Beca’s sure she’s about to burst into a fit of giggles, but all she does is work her way over to the middle of the bed. Beca moves when she’s close enough, turning on her knees, then moving to straddle Chloe’s thighs. She hears Chloe gasp when she does it and the confidence it ignites in Beca is palpable.

“It’s not like we’ve never done this before,” she says with a smile as she leans down.

“But we’ve never been on my bed when you did that,” Chloe replies as her hands find Beca’s elbows to climb the backs of her arms until her fingers are in Beca’s hair to pull Beca down the last few inches into another kiss.

It’s more heated this time. The angle is so much better. It’s so easy to kiss, and kiss, and kiss and slip her tongue into Chloe’s mouth, only to be chased out so the same can be done to her own.

She notices she has one minor regret about her choice of position when she feels Chloe’s hands on her waist, fingertips sneaking under the edge of Beca’s shirt: her hands aren’t as free to roam as she’d like them to be as she supports herself.

At least she has her mouth, though, and she uses it to move to kiss along Chloe’s jaw until she’s tilting her head back and Beca’s lips move to it. She covers it in gentle kisses, marveling at the sounds Chloe’s making. Her heavy breaths. The occasional whimper. The almost-but-not-quite moans that Beca can hear getting caught in Chloe’s throat. She’s distracted and somehow missed the progression of Chloe’s wandering hands until fingernails are drawing circles on her bare stomach, tickling along her ribs.

It makes her own breath catch and she can feel the unspoken question as those hands smooth around her ribs to her back where they stroke up, warm palms offering a calming connection, only for fingernails to drag their way back down. It’s not sharp enough to sting but it does make Beca hiss before she’s finding Chloe’s pulse point to suck a mark onto it.

That’s what finally helps the moan escape and it rattles Beca to her core. It makes her hips shift and she feels Chloe’s move beneath her and she’s reminded of the other night when their positions were reversed and Chloe’s kisses and Chloe’s hips drove Beca higher and higher until they’d pressed pause.

The longer they do this, the fewer second-thoughts Beca has about pressing pause again.

She lifts her head, intent on kissing Chloe again and Chloe meets her halfway, turning her head to catch her. It’s even hotter now, more passionate, and Beca feels the temperature of the room—and her own—steadily rise. She also feels her shirt steadily rise until her arms stop its ascent.

Chloe doesn’t do anything to try to finish removing it and Beca’s too caught up in what Chloe’s doing to her tongue to think about caring about anything beyond that. And the new development that is fingers creeping along the band of Beca’s bra toward the center of her chest.

She knows what Chloe’s intention is and she nods when Chloe hesitates.

Beca’s arms threaten to give out when she feels Chloe’s fingers travel up to explore the curves of her breasts, over the satin of her bra, tracing the edges of the cups until they’re grazing the bare skin above them. Her skin burns in their wake and she breaks their kiss to pull off her shirt and toss it aside.

“Oh, wow.”

A hand on Beca’s sternum stops her from leaning down again and forces her to sit back, upright.

“You are...so hot,” Chloe says and Beca watches Chloe’s eyes move over her upper body.

“You see me in less than this every day.”

“But you’re not on top of me or in my bed when I do.” Chloe’s eyes meet hers. “But speaking of less than this…” Her index finger catches the band of Beca’s bra in the center of her chest to give it a light tug.

“Did you want me to take it off?” Beca asks. She knows she’s teasing Chloe and she can’t quite believe she’s capable of doing so, but knowing Chloe likes it—likes her—gives her uncharacteristic levels of confidence.

Chloe shrugs. “I mean if you want to.”

Beca spends half a second feeling shy and then remembers how much heat is between them right now and reaches behind herself to unhook her bra. She does it gently so it remains in place. She very much wants Chloe to be the one to take it off of her.

It hangs loose on her shoulders and rides up a bit, but she’s still covered. She had assumed Chloe would keep her finger where it was to pull it down right away, but she didn’t. Instead, her fingers are trailing Beca’s ribs again, along the warm skin where her bra was until her fingertips are grazing the lower curves of Beca’s breasts.

It makes her gasp and her hips shift and she tries to ground herself; she doesn’t want to come across as impatient (because she isn’t), but no matter how hard she tries, her hips want to rock. It really doesn’t help that Chloe’s tilt beneath hers with each motion.

“Fuck,” Beca has to whisper when Chloe’s hands move higher, hidden beneath the loose bra, to first brush over her nipples, then palm her breasts confidently.

“God, Beca,” Chloe says with a rasp to her voice and her hips tilt into Beca more sharply.

For being on the giving end of what’s happening, Chloe seems to be enjoying it immensely and it only serves to make Beca want to know how much she’d enjoy receiving instead. Besides, her hands are idle, anyway.

She starts with her own bra, finally pulling it down her arms to toss it to the floor. Chloe can take it off her next time.

She reaches for the hem of Chloe’s shirt next and pulls the front of it from where it’s tucked into her shorts and starts unbuttoning it. She glances up to double-check that everything is fine but Chloe’s eyes are closed and she’s restless, shifting and squirming and, apparently, _really_ enjoying having her hands on Beca’s breasts which is more than okay with Beca because she _really_ enjoys that, too.

A moan escapes her when Chloe pinches and she has to focus extra hard to finish unbuttoning Chloe’s blouse. She does, though, and tosses the sides apart.

“Thank God,” she breathes when she sees the front clasp of Chloe’s lacy champagne-colored bra which leaves almost nothing to the imagination. Not that it’s needed; Beca’s seen Chloe topless countless times, but Chloe was right. It was never like this. It was never with Chloe toying with Beca’s breasts in such a maddening way.

“Wanted to make it easy for you,” Chloe says, back arching slightly in request.

The fact that Chloe had expected this, or at least hoped for this...Beca reaches for the clasp, not bothering with touching her first through the lace, and unhooks it.

She must stare too long because Chloe whines, “Touch me.”

Beca lets her fingers climb graze along Chloe’s ribs, following the same path Chloe had on Beca, to trace the curves before her hands cover Chloe’s breasts to squeeze lightly.

“God,” Chloe groans and the hands at Beca’s chest move to her back to pull Beca back down and into a kiss.

She has to use one of her hands to support herself and the feeling of her chest pressing to Chloe’s is too good so she gives up her brief manual exploration of Chloe’s breasts in favor of full contact. 

Chloe whimpers through their kiss which is growing dirtier and hotter by the second until Chloe’s pushing Beca off her, all the way until she’s sitting on her hip watching Chloe strip away her blouse and bra that Beca had undone for her. She misses their physical connection immediately and reaches to rest her hand on Chloe’s knee. Instinct begs her to run her hand north and press between Chloe’s legs and while she believes all signs are pointing to that being okay, she’s also loving taking their time.

So, she leaves her hand on Chloe’s knee and lets her thumb move back and forth over the warm, smooth skin there and watches Chloe move back in to kiss her, only to change course and start pressing kisses along Beca’s collar bone.

She knows what happens next and her hand slips higher as Chloe’s lips travel lower by the second; they’re trailing along the curve of Beca’s left breast until Chloe covers the peak with her lips to pull gently while her tongue slips over it.

“Jesus,” Beca breathes, the hand holding herself up slipping inch by inch until she’s on her back and Chloe’s lying next to her, mouth on Beca’s breast, hand teasing the other until its fingers are drawing patterns on Beca’s stomach.

They bump the edge of her shorts more than once in a teasing, torturous game of ‘Maybe This Time?’

Now she understands why Chloe was so restless beneath her; to be on her back, to have Chloe leaning over her this way, she’s a ball of anxious need with little control.

Mostly she can’t lie still with the way Chloe’s tongue teases her achingly hard nipples like she has nowhere better to be, and the sounds Chloe makes while she does it.

Chloe’s fingers catch in her waistband again but again, they do nothing. However, this time they keep moving lower and Beca feels them travel over her pocket, down the length of the material, until warm fingers squeeze at her thigh.

It makes her whole body tense with anticipation. Then Chloe’s sneaking north, her fingertips slipping beneath the hem of Beca’s shorts. Beca knows they’re probably too long and the angle’s not favorable for Chloe to really reach her this way but it’s sexy and thrilling all the same. She knows Chloe can feel how hot she is and spreads her legs a bit to try to encourage her.

“Chloe,” she finally says when desperation begins to win out. “Please.”

“Please what?” Chloe says before nipping at the soft flesh of Beca’s breast.

Beca really only has one functional hand, her left being trapped against her body by Chloe, but her right is free and she uses it to reach for the hand threatening to drive her insane, draw it out of the leg of her shorts, and place it over the fly. She almost placed it between her legs herself, but this is still their first time and she wants to make sure their pace is good with Chloe, too.

Chloe lifts her head and Beca meets her eyes. “You’re sure?” 

“I said please, didn’t I?” she says, beginning to feel a bit delirious with arousal.

“And it sounded so good,” Chloe says with a smile that’s probably illegal in fourteen states. “Since you asked nicely…”

Beca holds her breath and she feels Chloe’s hand move down, down until her fingertips are pressing and following the thick seam of her shorts between her legs.

It makes her entire body roll. “Fuck,” she exhales.

“Oh, my God, I can feel how turned on you are,” Chloe says with a moan before pushing herself higher to claim Beca’s lips.

Beca just nods and whines pitifully.

“Can I finish undressing you?” Chloe asks between kisses.

“If you don’t, I will,” Beca breathes before kissing Chloe hard, desperately.

Chloe moans in response and then she’s in motion, sitting up and reaching to unbutton Beca’s shorts. Beca lifts her hips and Chloe doesn’t hesitate to slip them down and off Beca’s legs.

She does hesitate at the last garment, Beca’s new black underwear she’s oh-so-grateful she decided to wear tonight just in case, so Beca just lifts her hips again and says, “Please.”

Beca feels them move down her legs followed by...nothing.

She lifts her head to see Chloe sitting by Beca’s feet, just looking at her body. “What?”

Chloe shakes her head. “I can’t get over how hot you are.”

Beca has to laugh. “Have you ever looked in a mirror?”

Chloe rolls her eyes but her smile tells Beca she appreciates the sentiment.

“Can you…” Beca gestures vaguely in Chloe’s direction “too?”

It takes Chloe a second to figure it out, but then with a quiet, “Oh,” she’s unbuttoning her shorts and working them down her legs, quickly followed by panties Beca knows match the bra she’d been wearing.

“Okay, you win the hotness contest,” she says as she watches Chloe crawl up her body until she’s lying, skin to skin, against Beca, as they kiss.

“It’s a tie,” Chloe says and Beca can’t help but wrap her arms around her. It’s not a hug, not exactly, as her arms don’t linger.

If Chloe’s going to lie on top of her fully nude, Beca is going to use it to her advantage. She runs her hands down Chloe’s back until they’re on her ass, grasping it shamelessly as Beca tries to rock up into her.

“God, you’re so ready, aren’t you,” Chloe says with an appreciative moan before moving to suck at Beca’s neck.

“And you’re not?”

Chloe’s hips roll against Beca. “I’ve been ready since I saw you change in the locker room the first time.”

“Pervert.”

“I have appreciative eyes. I can’t help it if I like what I see.”

Beca drags her nails up Chloe’s back to tangle in her hair. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are talking way too much right now.” She pulls her down into a kiss and tries to make her needs clear with the way she plays with Chloe’s tongue.

It must work because Chloe shifts off her until they’re side by side, Beca still on her back as Chloe presses close. Her hand frames Beca’s face for a particularly breathtaking kiss and then it’s drifting down, down the valley between her breasts, over the soft plane of her stomach, until it’s paused so, so close to where Beca needs it the most.

“Can I touch you?” Chloe whispers against Beca’s lips.

Beca would be embarrassed by the desperate plea of a response she gives if she wasn’t so far gone. She feels Chloe’s touch move lower until it’s grazing between her legs.

“Oh, my God,” Chloe says with an appreciative groan as her touch grows more assured. “Oh, wow. You’re _so_ wet, baby.”

Beca’s heart can’t possibly pound any harder than it already is but if it could, it would at the sound of Chloe calling her “baby.” Instead, she nods and spreads her legs wider.

Chloe’s touch is torturous, exploratory, but Beca feels it getting more purposeful by the minute. She’s vaguely aware of the sounds falling from her lips. Her eyes flutter open wanting to look down and see what it looks like to have Chloe’s hand between her legs but when she does, she’s struck by Chloe’s eyes on her face, watching her intently.

Her touch becomes focused, firm pressure and slow circles over swollen flesh. “Like this?”

It makes Beca’s breath stutter and she manages to nod. Her left arm is pinned between them again but her right is free and her hand fists in the bedding as her hips start rocking in time with Chloe’s rhythm.

“God, you feel so good,” Chloe breathes; it’s hot against Beca’s neck and she’s ready for it when Chloe’s lips meet her skin again.

She wants to tell Chloe that no, it’s Chloe who feels so good right now but all she can muster is a moan and a breathy, “Faster.”

Chloe’s teeth tease her neck and she does as requested, moving in tighter, quicker circles against Beca that has her bucking desperately. It’s going to be over sooner than Beca would have liked, but something tells her this won’t be the last time they do this. Perhaps not even tonight.

The thoughts that fly through her mind are dirty. Filthy. She imagines the sound of the headboard banging steadily against the wall. Pictures herself astride Chloe’s face. Envisions burying her tongue inside Chloe whom she’s not yet even had the pleasure of touching.

It rocks her into orgasm and she hears Chloe in her ear, chanting her name, curse words, sounds.

“Holy shit, that was so hot,” is the first complete sentence she understands and it feels like she’s had no release at all, other than her temporary inability to move. “I don’t want to stop.” Chloe’s fingers don’t stop, but they are slow now, and gentler. “Do you want me to stop?”

Beca nods but she manages to smile and open her eyes. “Gimme a sec.”

Chloe looks as bewildered and hot as Beca feels so Beca purses her lips to ask to be kissed and when she does, it’s so hot and wet and desperate her thighs clench against Chloe’s hand and she nearly comes again just like that. But she catches herself and reaches for Chloe’s wrist to ease it from between her thighs. She has half a mind to drag it up and lick Chloe’s fingers but that feels the tiniest bit too bold.

She regrets it immediately because that’s exactly what Chloe does: unapologetically cleans Beca off her fingers with her mouth in an unfairly erotic display.

“God, Beca, you taste—“

Beca interrupts her by kissing her, and kissing her, and kissing her as she works her way onto her side so she can urge Chloe onto her back. She’s become painfully aware that she has barely begun to explore Chloe and has every intention of doing so—thoroughly.

It’s as though Chloe senses this because she seems to surrender. Her hands lie still above her head and though she’s kissing Beca and she’s still restless, she’s not demanding or directing anything.

Her limbs are still unsteady so Beca stays on her side. She lets her hand roam now that it’s free, grazing Chloe’s neck, tickling along her collar bones, down her sternum until her fingertips drift to find the curve of Chloe’s breast.

Beca can take her time now, and she does, trading kisses that are sometimes sweet, sometimes dirty as she teases an already-firm nipple to further hardness. It feels amazing beneath her palm and the way Chloe’s sighs border on moans are as reassuring as they are a dare to pull proper moans from her.

The first time Beca moves back, only a few inches to kiss her way down Chloe’s chest, Chloe swears under her breath. Her lips move over slight swell of Chloe’s right breast and she lets her hand drift to the other, mirroring the path her lips take until her tongue grazes the peak.

A sound escapes Chloe at the contact, a kind of broken, high whine that makes Beca do it again.

Chloe’s back arches this time, the first real movement that feels like she’s asking Beca for something, but Beca doesn’t need to be asked. Her tongue plays over the firm, pebbled flesh as her fingers tease the other before she palms it greedily as her lips take the other to suckle.

“Bec—“ Her voice is strained and Beca glances up to see her head thrown back, pressing into the pillow, and if she wasn’t so content to be where she is, she’d move back up to run her tongue over the tense lines of her throat.

Instead, she lets Chloe’s nipple slip from between her lips and when she starts to move to reach the other, decides to straddle Chloe again, but only so she can lie on the other side.

“I’m a lefty,” she says when Chloe looks at her in question at her relocation. But when Beca’s now-free dominant hand skates across her abdomen, Chloe moans in understanding.

Beca spends time there tracing the faint lines of Chloe’s defined muscles, the curves of her hips, the soft, warm skin along her side that makes Chloe huff a laugh and squirm when Beca touches it. She doesn’t tell her to stop it, though, so she files that away for the future as she leans down to take Chloe’s less-tended breast into her mouth, not so much teasing as claiming.

Chloe’s back arches again. “You’re going to kill me,” she says through a moan and her arms finally move, one coming down to press against Beca’s back and the other hand twisting in the blanket just as Beca had done.

“Maybe,” Beca says after letting the tip of Chloe’s breast slip from her lips. “Can you hold on a little longer, though?” Her hand travels down the top of Chloe’s thigh, then back up the inside halfway until she gives it a slight tug to ask Chloe to part her legs.

Which she does.

“No promises.” Chloe’s hips roll once even though the only place Beca’s touching her is her thigh and she seems to laugh at her own impatience.

Beca’s impatience has grown, too, so she can’t blame her. “This is okay?”

“Thank you for asking, but,” her hips twitch again, “you can do anything you want to me.”

Beca swallows and feels a shiver run through her body as she watches her hand drift higher, fingertips grazing the soft skin of Chloe’s inner thigh. Higher and higher, warmer and warmer as Chloe breathes heavily, until her fingers find heat and wetness.

Surprised to hear nothing in response, Beca looks up to find Chloe’s eyes closed tightly and her mouth open but silent. She doesn’t even seem to be breathing. Or moving. Every muscle in her both seems to be tense and Beca almost starts to worry until a shift of her fingers draws a gasp and her hips jerk unevenly.

“Oh, my God,” Beca says when she realizes what just happened. “Seriously?”

“Shut up,” Chloe says through a broken moan. “I warned you.”

“Wow.” It’s a struggle to not be smug when she managed to make this gorgeous woman fall apart with little more than foreplay. “Should I stop?”

Chloe’s answer is immediate. “No.” Her eyes finally open and Beca leans down to kiss her. She keeps her touch light to give Chloe time to recover. Chloe sighs into their kiss and something about it makes Beca’s toes curl and her hips shift, the way she can feel and hear and taste how much Chloe wants her right now.

She’s so caught up in it that she doesn’t notice Chloe’s hand moving until it’s over Beca’s to press her fingers flush with her body. She moans against Beca’s lips and starts trying to guide her.

Beca leaves Chloe’s lips in favor of her cheek, her jaw, her ear, her neck. “Are you saying I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“Please, Beca. Just touch me.” It’s so desperate it almost sounds like a sob, so Beca kisses her soundly once more and then moves.

It’s one swift motion, skipping the teasing and the building of anticipation, as she moves down until she’s settling on her stomach between Chloe’s legs.

“Fuck,” she hears, a little strangled, above her and she looks up to find herself being watched as she blows a stream of cool are over the wet, swollen flesh begging for her attention. She slips her arms under Chloe’s thighs to rest her hands low on her stomach and uses her thumbs to pull back, to expose more of her and she watches Chloe’s head fall back to the pillow and her hands do the same, twisting into the pillow on either side.

Beca can actually see Chloe throbbing, even in the low light, and she doesn’t wait any longer. She leans down and touches her tongue to Chloe.

She half-expects her to come again but when she doesn’t, she’s not sure if she’s relieved that she gets to spend more time on her or if she’s disappointed.

She settles on ‘relieved’ because even if she had, there’s nothing disappointing about what’s happening right now, which is Chloe moaning and parting her legs further.

Beca takes her time learning how Chloe feels against her tongue, how she tastes, what spots make her hips jump and what spots make her hips grind. She focuses on the latter and laps at her, at the wetness, and lets Chloe move and grind and roll however she needs. It’s _so_ sexy and Beca feels like she’s simply along for the ride, giving Chloe exactly what she wants.

The way Chloe had moaned with Beca when making her come, Beca learns, is nothing like what she sounds like when Beca’s tongue is between her legs.

She’s loud. And she swears. A lot. She’s the embodiment of wild abandon and while it’s not a big surprise to Beca, it’s a revelation nonetheless.

“You can touch me,” she says while taking a breath, catching one of Chloe’s flailing hands to pull it down until it tangles in Beca’s hair to pull. “Oh, shit,” she adds, moaning from the unexpected pleasure that comes with the sting.

Chloe moans, too, then moans louder when Beca pulls the sensitive, swollen bundle of nerves between her lips to suck on it, tongue still stroking it in her mouth.

Beca’s so turned on she can barely focus. She channels every ounce of what she has into what she’s doing and not into the slick throbbing between her own legs. She moans with Chloe, moves with her until strong thighs close against her ears and she hears, muffled, Chloe groan her name as she climaxes.

Everything is hot and wet and Beca whines in empathy as Chloe’s body rolls and twitches until it stills and her legs fall open.

Cool air rushes in and Beca takes a deep, much-needed breath (not that she would have any complaints about suffocating just then) and rests her head on Chloe’s thigh. There’s still a hand in her hair but now it’s smoothing, not pulling.

“Shit, Beca.”

Beca just hums and lets the tip of her tongue sneak out to tease and Chloe’s entire body jumps.

“Oh, wow. Okay.” Chloe laughs to herself and while Beca’s not sure what’s amusing, she doesn’t really care. She’s so painfully aroused she can barely think.

She waits until Chloe’s aftershocks subside and not a second longer before she pushes onto her hands and knees to move up until she’s astride Chloe’s waist. She bends down to kiss her. 

“Touch me,” she asks. Begs, really. Before she brings their lips together.

Chloe moans and is greedy with her kiss and Beca’s about to ask again when she feels Chloe’s hand between her legs.

“God,” Chloe groans as her hand moves over Beca, her whole hand, not just a few fingers, gliding over her.

“Chlo…please…” she whines against her lips. “I’m so close.”

“Really?” Chloe sounds giddy at the information and Beca probably should have prepared herself more, but she didn’t, so she’s not exactly ready for what it will feel like to have Chloe slip inside her.

“Oh—fuck…” she groans and her hips move of their own accord and Chloe moans, too, and her entire body seems to move with Beca’s.

Chloe’s palm fits against her perfectly and Beca dares to open her eyes.

She considers it a mistake only in that seeing the way Chloe’s looking at her and meeting her eyes makes Beca come. It’s intense. And, Beca vaguely realizes with her ears and the way Chloe moves, she’s not alone in her ecstasy.

It only adds to the intensity and she feels like she could pass out from ecstasy.

But she doesn’t.

It passes and what little strength she had left to hold herself up was expended and she collapses on top of Chloe, face buried in her neck and the pillow. She would apologize for squishing her if she could but all Chloe does is wrap her arms around Beca and pull her in even closer.

There’s a lot floating around in Beca’s brain but she can’t make much sense of any of it. Happy. Content. Warm. Tired. Somehow _still_ horny. Safe.

“God, Beca,” Chloe breathes against her ear and she feels lips against it, whether purposeful or not, but it doesn’t matter, “I’ve never—" she swallows “—I’ve never come that hard before. With anyone. Or alone.”

Beca feels her ears burning, maybe from Chloe’s lips but mostly the words and she tries to burrow further into hiding. “Same,” she finally admits before biting at the curve of Chloe’s neck. Not hard. Playfully.

Chloe hums and Beca feels her hands start drawing peaceful, relaxing patterns on her back and she soaks it in for a few minutes before shuffling until she’s lying on the bed more than on Chloe, but she keeps her leg over Chloe’s and her arm tucked against her chest so her fingers can play with the ends of Chloe’s hair, or follow the sharp line of her jaw, or creep up to trace her lips.

“I’m glad we didn’t wait,” Beca finally says to break the cozy silence.

The hand still on her back shifts to tickle along her spine. “Me, too.” Chloe sighs. “Imagine not knowing what this would feel like for another month. Or two? How long were you going to have us wait?”

Beca laughs and draws invisible lines between the freckles on Chloe’s chest until she finds herself wetting her finger in her mouth and starting to tease a nipple back to attention. “Only until I felt like I could trust myself to not do something to scare you off.”

Chloe shivers and Beca watches her flesh harden beneath her touch. It looks like magic.

“I’ve never been a flight risk.” Beca can hear Chloe’s heartbeat from where her ear rests against the soft spot between her chest and shoulder and its pace is steadily increasing.

“I don’t usually dive right in when I meet someone I like.” Beca knows she's oversimplifying her chronic relationship strife, but that's for another time.

“So you like me?” 

Beca can hear the tease in Chloe’s voice and she tweaks the nipple she’s toying with, earning her a pleasant-sounding gasp. “You’re okay.”

“Just okay?” This time, her voice drips with suggestiveness and it makes Beca tilt her head up until she’s kissing the underside of her chin.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind keeping you around.” She says it without really thinking and on playback, she panics. “I mean—I didn’t mean to assume—we don’t have to define anything—”

“Beca,” Chloe says, her free hand moving to cover the one Beca’s been using to tease her. “I’d love it if you kept me around.”

She relaxes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Chloe’s hand squeezes over Beca’s and Beca can hear the low sound that rumbles in Chloe’s chest. “You’re getting me all worked up again.”

“Damn,” Beca says with a smile as she lifts her head to look down at a flushed Chloe.

“Yeah,” Chloe smiles back as Beca leans down to kiss her. “Damn.”

* * *

_**The end** _


End file.
